


Cupid & the Cursed Cup...

by Lymers



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angels, Demigods, Demons, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, WayHaught Au, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 52,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26042578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lymers/pseuds/Lymers
Summary: Waverly no longer knows who to trust.  Could a super-sexy redhead, with hypnotic eyes, help?
Relationships: Jeremy Chetri & Nicole Haught, Jeremy Chetri/Robin Jett, Nicole Haught & Robin Jett, Rosita Bustillos & Nicole Haught, Waverly Earp & Wynonna Earp, Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught, Xavier Dolls & Nicole Haught
Comments: 69
Kudos: 149





	1. Auntie's Soldiers

Waverly gasped as she entered the water, its icy coldness a shock to her body. Her head went under, lungs drawing in the dirty liquid, not through choice, a reaction that was all. Down, down, the inky-blackness taking her, pulling her towards a place she didn't want to go.

Someone grabbed her collar, the yank forceful enough for her to take another lungful as she came up. Lying on the grass, hands pumped her chest in a rhythmic motion, seeking to keep her alive, rid her lungs of the liquid in her brief baptism into a watery underworld. Whoever was trying to save her cared more for her life than those from whom she was attempting to flee. Her eyes opened momentarily, a face staring down, beautiful chocolate-brown eyes. Muffled words she was unable make out, ears still full of water. 

The warmth of a soft woollen blanket soothed her body, a hand resting on her shoulder. A voice, distant, unconnected with her life, reassuring, telling her to rest, the side of her face pressed against a scratchy cushion. Her own voice weak, unconvincing. “I need to get away.”

“Do you now,” the voice replied. Female. Kind, yet conveying power. Assured. That was it. Whoever was speaking to her knew their own mind.

She tried to sit up, not knowing where she was, why she was lying on someone else’s bed, in a confined space smelling of musky incense. “I need to go.”

“Rest. You’re safe.”

A hand stroked the side of her head. The softest of touches. The sort of touch a mother would give to comfort her child. Waverly’s eyes closed, unable to summon the strength to run. 

Auntie was preparing a meal. She looked up as Nicole entered. “So, you’re keeping her?”

“Perhaps,” Nicole replied. "She needs to rest for now."

“I'd rather she wasn't here. I’ve things to do, you know that.”

“Fine, I’ll take her somewhere else when she wakes. What's for dinner?”

"The boiled heads of our enemies," Auntie said, stirring the pot. "Pasta, with meatballs."

Nicole took a seat, waiting for the others to arrive. The smell of Auntie’s cooking like nectar to a bee, attracting those who had become family to each other. Robin was first through the door, removing his heavy outer coat, throwing it on the couch, extracting two long knives from their sheaths on the back of his belt, laying them on the table. He still had his boots on, muddy from the fields he had run across in his latest encounter with those whose heads Auntie so easily would have boiled. Auntie shouted at him to remove his footwear, lest she end up spending the next day cleaning the floor. 

Jeremy followed, the supposed brains of this unruly gang of misfits, engrossed in a book on Norse mythology, chuckling at some of the challenges faced by mythical gods and demigods in days of yore. He huffed as Auntie pulled the reading material out of his hands, scolding him for bringing it to the table. He looked at Nicole wondering what had caused Auntie to be in such a foul mood. She was just about to whisper something to him when Rosita rocked up, spots of blood on her face, a gash on the side of her cheek. “Robin, next time you decide to chase after lowlifes remember to return for me. Had to fight two on my own.”

“Right. My bad,” Robin replied, taking three pieces of garlic bread from the plate in the centre of the table, those gathered glaring at him. "What? What?"

Rosita pulled out a chair, removing her bloody knives, dumping them on the floor by her feet. It was the final straw for Auntie, her voice louder than any of them had heard in a while. “You all know the rules. No blades, no blood at the dining table. Rosita go wash your face. Now. I’m not serving anyone 'til you’re done.”

Waverly woke with a start at the sound of raised voices. She sat up, looking round, trying to get her bearings. Wooden walls, a rusty oil lamp illuminating the narrow space, a small circular window the only glimpse of a world beyond this strange confine, a full moon framed in it. Moving towards the end of the bed, she realised she had nothing on, wrapping a blanket round her body, shivering as cold air brushed across her shoulders. She could still hear the woman’s voice beyond the closed door, reprimanding whoever was outside. A male voice, young, quieter than the woman’s was apologising, saying he would remember to leave his knives where he had been told in future. The scraping sound of a chair being dragged across a wooden floor. The door opening.

“What the…” Robin said, seeing Waverly sitting on the edge of the bed looking up at him. “Auntie, why is there a naked woman in your bed? Pray tell.”

“Ask N. Fished her out of the canal. Simply can’t be doing with another stray, what with everything going on.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t explain why she’s here. Is this another pet for you to play with N?”

“Could be." Nicole replied. "Don’t know yet. No idea if she's house-trained.”

Rosita joined Robin at the bedroom door. “Ha, me so knows why N wants this one. Naughty, naughty N. You’re so transparent.”

“Says the person drooling on Robin’s shoulder.”

Waverly stood, holding onto the blanket, moving towards Robin and Rosita. “Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on? And, where are my clothes?”

“Language my dear,” Auntie replied. “There are children present.”

It broke the tension. Laughter ensued, even Auntie smiled at what she had said. “Come, join us. You must be hungry after all you've been through.”

“I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion.”

More laughter, Waverly looking at her new acquaintances wondering how she ended up here, naked. Auntie moved Rosita to one side, opening a drawer, pulling out a t-shirt, baggy sweatshirt and a pair of jogging pants. “Best I can do for now. Your clothes are drying. Rosita, put your tongue away and go wash your face. We eat in five minutes.”

Waverly appeared from the bedroom sporting Auntie's clothes. Her hair hung limply about her shoulders, the occasional drip falling on her leg as she sat at the table. She stared at each of the group. Four extremely good-looking strangers were chatting between themselves, the tall, red-haired woman occasionally glancing over, watchful eyes studying her features, as if she was memorising them, or maybe remembering. Auntie placed a large bowl of pasta in the middle of the table, moving the garlic bread to one side, spooning out portions into smaller bowls, everyone waiting for her to bring over the meat sauce. Waverly put her hand over her bowl. “Sorry, I’m vegan. Pasta is fine.”

Auntie shrugged, giving Nicole an extra helping, serving herself last. Food presented, Auntie squeezed herself between Robin and Rosita, taking a hand in each of hers, the others doing the same. Waverly had no choice but to join in. There was a moment’s silence, heads bowed, Auntie’s voice, softer now, leading the group in some form of prayer. “May this food nourish our bones, may the Gods nourish our hearts, may we have the strength to continue to fight the good fight till all our days on Earth are done. Now eat. We have a lot to do.”

The tapping of metal against crockery was the only sound, Waverly watching as the others devoured everything before them. She picked at the pasta, looking up occasionally, catching the eye of Nicole each time. She wanted to leave, get as far away from here, afraid her life was still in danger. A dull thud on the door made her jump, fearful eyes scanning the entrance, praying whoever might be outside would not be the same who were after her, her mind calculating those who were would not be so polite as to knock before entering. 

\+ + + +

Her life had taken a sharp turn in recent days. No longer dull, she found herself caught up in a series of events for which she had little explanation. A journalist by profession, employed by a local newspaper, she had been working on a story, the unexplained disappearance of a worker at the cathedral. A stonemason, employed to restore several gargoyles on the outside of the church, failed to clock off from work. CCTV footage had been reviewed, the last known sighting was of him entering the cathedral carrying what appeared to be drawings of one of the pieces he would have been working on. With no cameras inside, wherever he went he had not left the building. 

She had spent several hours with the church warden, piecing together who would have been around that day, who had seen the stonemason the day of his disappearance. She was taken on a tour of the cathedral, secret passageways some dating back to the earliest parts of the building. Everyone was at a loss as to where he had gone. It was on her second visit to the cathedral, wanting to check again footage from that day, she spotted two men, sat near the back of the church, dressed in black, shaven heads, watching her as she made her way towards the warden’s room. Their appearance alone was unusual, that and they were both wearing black leather gloves. _No one wears gloves in church,_ she thought, as she passed, her pace quickening, a sudden uneasiness at being in the vicinity of these men. 

She knocked on the warden’s door, waiting for an answer. No reply. She knocked again, trying the handle. Locked. A cleaner walked by. “He’s not been in all morning. I can’t get into his office to clean it. Someone’s locked the door. Flippin’ marvellous. What’s the world coming to, hey?”

Waverly smiled, acknowledging the obvious frustrations of not being able to clean if you’re a cleaner. She tried the handle again. “Told you it’s locked. No point trying. If you see the warden tell him my shift ends in forty minutes. Not losing any pay over this, I can tell you.”

Waverly had an uneasy feeling as she watched the cleaner wander off down the corridor muttering to himself. Things did not feel right. Something was telling her whatever was the other side of that door was not good. She knelt down, peering in through the keyhole. The warden was inside the room. At least, from what she could see, part of the warden was inside. The top half to be precise, suspended from the ceiling by what looked like an electrical extension lead. 

Her phone was in her hand before she even realised. She had seen dead bodies before, nothing like this. Her hand shook as she dialled the number for the police. The automated voice reeled off a list of options: lost or stolen property, fraud, stray dogs, abandoned vehicles, serious crime. She pressed the extension for serious crime, a woman answered, Waverly explaining she was currently staring at a dismembered body in St. Albans cathedral. Three police cars were outside in a matter of minutes, along with a forensic unit van. 

The Dean of St. Albans was in the middle of practising his sermon when several police officers entered, marching down the side aisle followed by three people dressed head to foot in white overalls. He joined the procession, heading to where Waverly was waiting, still on a call to her office to say she might have a scoop on the story unfolding. Her editor told her to stay there, find out as much as she could. 

The Dean used his master set of keys, opening the door, staggering back at the sight before him. Waverly waited for the police to enter, following behind, careful not to touch anything, or tread in anything. Her eyes went to the far wall, words written in red for all to see: 

RETURN THE KEY


	2. Bleeding Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is this stranger in Waverly's life...

There was a second, louder knock on the door of the narrowboat on which Waverly now found herself. “X, is that you?” Auntie asked.

Xavier entered, his heavy boots thudding on the wooden steps as he descended into the cabin. “Evening everyone, room for one more? I be a famished and your food be mighty tempting. Could smell it a mile off.”

“Leave your weapons in my room, boots off, you know the rules. N budge up, give him some space.”

Xavier did as Auntie instructed, not bothering to remove his heavy trench coat, squeezing himself in beside the others at the table. His eyes fell on Waverly. “Who’s she?”

“N’s new plaything." Rosita replied. "Found her in the canal. Isn’t that right N?”

“Would you mind not calling me that,” Waverly snapped. “I don’t know who you are, but it’s rather rude to be referred to as a toy. I’m a journalist, if you must know.” Nicole lowered her head, attempting to stifle a laugh. “And, what’s so funny?”

“You were fish food before I pulled you out of the canal.”

“Sorry. Thank you for saving my life, but if you don’t mind could I please have my clothes.”

Xavier studied her. “What were you doing in the canal? Not ideal for a swim this time of night. Catch your death.”

Waverly heard Nicole snigger, shooting her a glare. “If you want to know, I was attempting to stay alive.”

“Mossbacks were chasing her.” Nicole added.

“Some men chasing me may have had something to do with it. Look, all I want are my clothes. Can someone please get me my clothes?”

“N, you heard the child,” Auntie said. “They’re drying in the cupboard. If she wants to leave it’s not our place to stop her.”

Nicole retrieved the clothes, handing them to Waverly, watching as she returned to the bedroom. A few moments later she reappeared, dressed in her own damp garments, making her way towards the end of the boat to leave. “N, go with her," Auntie instructed. "Make sure she gets to where she needs to go.”

“I really don’t need an escort. Thank you again for saving my life, whoever you are. I owe you a drink sometime.”

“Hear that N?” Rosita said, wiping her mouth on a blood-stained sleeve. “You’ve got yourself a date with the fish. Will it be water you’re drinking?”

Waverly gave Rosita a look to say she was not even going to rise to the bait of that last comment. Nicole pushed her bare feet into a pair of combat boots, grabbing a faded leather coat, following her out, the night air and damp clothes making Waverly pull the collar of her jacket up. Nicole stayed a few paces behind, Waverly looking round every few steps. “I really don’t need you to follow me. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

“And have those who are still following you get what they want.”

Waverly froze. “Where? Fuck, I see them. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Okay, don’t panic. Keep walking Waverly. I can handle this. Would you mind coming a little closer, till…” Waverly glanced behind her. Nicole had vanished. “Great. Just when I needed her.”

She heard a skirmish, looking to where the two men who chased her earlier that evening had been waiting near the bushes. Nicole was now standing over their lifeless bodies, wiping something from her coat. She let out a gasp on seeing Nicole’s handy work. “Did you…did you do that? How?”

Nicole retrieved one of the men’s hearts from her pocket, holding it out for Waverly to inspect. “I believe I have solved this particular problem for you.”

Waverly’s legs gave way, crouching down, trying not to throw up at the stench of fresh blood. “Who are you? Seriously, who the fuck are you?”

“Do you want me to go?”

“Please, please stay. Whoever you are.”

Nicole helped Waverly to her feet. “I think you should come with me to a safe house tonight.”

“Fine. No wait, I left all my notes at the cathedral. I need to get them. Damn, my car. Okay, okay. The cathedral will be closed. Think Waverly, think.”

“We can go get your things tomorrow when it’s light,” Nicole suggested, once Waverly had finished talking to herself.

Waverly gazed at Nicole. Tall, extremely good looking, dressed in an odd combination of eighteenth century chic and rebel soldier, hands covered in blood. _Interesting,_ she thought, _very interesting. This would make a great story for the paper._

Xavier was finishing his third bowl of pasta. “You know how to keep the beast in me satisfied Auntie.”

“What’s the latest?” she asked, handing him a large slice of homemade cake. 

“There's rumour of the old demons returning. Someone is close to freeing them. Too close I fear. I can feel it in this gut of mine. Lovely cake by the way.”

“We can put out the call to arms if you think the time is approaching.”

“I would say not yet. Let’s see what they do. We have been here so many times before. Although, this time feels different. As if…”

“Had fun with the mossbacks,” Rosita interrupted. “Counted five. That’s the most we’ve had to deal with in a long while.”

“Five,” Xavier repeated, wiping crumbs from his beard. “Troubling. Any more cake Auntie?”

“You’ll eat me out of house and boat. One more slice.”

Jeremy retrieved his book from the couch. “If you will excuse me. Robin, you coming?”

“Need to have a quick word with X. You go on.”

Jeremy walked the short distance to the narrowboat he shared with Robin. A convenient hideaway for those who sought not to draw attention to themselves. Out of sight, most folks ignoring the people moored along the canal. Travellers, invisible to most, they could come and go as they pleased, minding their own business, navigating the waterway system across the country whenever they needed to move on. 

Nicole led her companion across fields, Waverly staying as close as she could. The speed at which Nicole was walking was fast, too fast for her. “Wait, stop, I’m out of breath,” she said, stopping for a moment, her hands on her knees, her lungs hurting. “So much for that gym membership. Can you slow down a little?”

Nicole stopped, looking around, her senses on full alert. She turned, watching Waverly take a moment to catch her breath. “Shall I carry you? I can go quicker if I have you slung over my shoulder.”

“I’m not some damsel in distress, thank you very much. My legs aren’t as long as yours that’s all.”

“Suit yourself. We still have a way to go. Let me know if it’s too much for you.”

“It’s not too much. Just go, I’ll catch you up.”

“That might not be such a good idea. Someone’s been following us since the canal.”

Waverly spun round, looking everywhere, moving closer to Nicole. “How far is this place?”

“Three more fields. Take my hand if you get scared.”

Waverly was scared. Very scared, but she was damned if she would hold a stranger’s hand in the middle of a field, at night. A branch cracked nearby, Waverly letting out a small scream, her nerves on edge, wishing she was at home, in bed, not in this predicament. She grabbed Nicole’s bloody hand feeling an instant connection, a desire to be with this curious creature with smouldering eyes. The pair continued on their journey, Nicole leading them to the place she knew Waverly would be safe, at least for one night. 

They reached the edge of the field, Nicole pushing the metal gate, holding it open. A gravel path led towards what appeared to be farm buildings. They walked the last few hundred yards, Nicole stopping outside the door of the farmhouse, pulling out a mobile phone, calling someone. Waverly could hear a phone ringing inside the house, a light coming on in an upstairs window, someone thumping down wooden stairs. The ringing stopped. Nicole was speaking to whoever was inside saying she had a delivery. A woman, possibly in her seventies Waverly assessed opened the door peering out. “Well, this is a surprise. Didn’t expect to see you this time of night.”

“We need to stay with you. She’s clean. Auntie checked for marks.”

Waverly suddenly felt uncomfortable, wondering why this Auntie woman would have been looking for marks on her body. Whether it was the night air, or the discomfort of what she had just heard, she shivered, instinctively looking over her shoulder. She could have sworn she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. She edged closer to Nicole, not wanting to be outside any longer. 

The old woman stepped to one side, allowing them to enter the hallway. “Go through, I’ll put the kettle on.”

“Kind of you,” Nicole replied. “Unless you have something stronger. It’s been a long night.”

“I might have. And, who might this young lady be?”

“Waverly Earp. I'm a journalist at the Mercury.”

Nicole took off her coat, removing her boots, Waverly noticing the two blades on the back of her belt. “Letter openers," Nicole informed, as she caught Waverly staring. "Never leave home without them.”

“Really. You don’t say. Does everyone in your gang have a degree in sarcasm?” 

“When you’ve been around as long as we have this is the humour you end up with.”

They moved off down the hallway, the elderly woman at the front, turning on the light as they entered the kitchen. She headed towards an old range, lifting a blackened kettle off, filling it with water. Returning it to the top, she opened a small door at the front of the range, taking a box of matches from a nearby shelf, striking one, setting fire to the newspaper inside the space. Waverly watched as it caught light, flames growing taller, giving off an orange glow.

“Let’s get you that drink N. Sit, sit, the kettle will take a while to boil.”

Nicole parked herself at one end of the table, her hands still crimson. She didn’t seem to notice, or mind, Waverly observed, almost as if this was an everyday occurrence, something she was used to doing. Tearing the hearts from bodies with her bare hands. Nicole’s head was lowered, lost in thought, looking up only when the elderly woman placed a small tumbler in front of her. A greenish liquid, with something swirling, resembling a black worm. Nicole smiled, taking the glass, holding it up to the light to study it. “Need this. To your health. To the Gods who made me.”

She downed the drink in one gulp, shaking her head. As she brought her eyes up to look at Waverly they had changed colour, now a deep violet, glowing as though a light had been switched on within.

Waverly was up out of her chair, backing towards the door, unable to take her own eyes off Nicole. “What the…who are you?”

“Just your average demigod. Would you like to try Nan’s vodka? Good stuff. One more for me if you are offering Nan.”

Waverly shook her head, sitting down, watching as Nicole downed a second glass of whatever liquid this Nan woman was supplying. “Sorry, did you say demigod? As in, demigod?”

Nicole looked up once more, her eyes still glowing a deep violet. “Here to protect mortals from those that would see to it humanity is enslaved to do its bidding.”

“And, you’re a demigod. And, you ripped the hearts out of those guys’ chests. I’m dreaming. I’m seriously dreaming. This isn’t happening.”

“Hearts. Almost forgot. Thanks. Nan, would you mind disposing of them for me.”

Waverly could have sworn Nicole was taller as she stood, heading to the hallway, returning with the organs, one in each hand. Nan took them, opening the door to the range, throwing them in, a hissing sound as they were consumed by the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Grand Union Canal is a manmade feature providing a waterway link from London to Birmingham. The section I focused on for this story is Apsley, the map in the link showing you two sets of locks (Winkwell Lock & Apsley Lock). Both are important to the story. [Grand Union Canal](https://canalrivertrust.org.uk/places-to-visit/apsley)


	3. Creepy Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly needs to get her story straight...

Waverly’s eyes remained on the fire. In the last twenty four hours she had seen half a body, been chased, nearly drowned, checked for marks, introduced to demigods. She now was watching two hearts burn. Nicole stretched out her arms towards the ceiling. “What’s so important about your notes?”

Waverly continued to stare at the range. “A story I’m working on.”

“Humour me.”

Waverly was reluctant to explain. There was no reason to tell this N person, this demigod, why she was following a story. And yet, having seen all she had seen, she was at a loss to understand the events in which she had become entangled. “Okay. One missing person, then half a person dangling from the ceiling of his office.”

“Rather unfortunate. Continue. I’m intrigued.”

“I cover stories a lot less bizarre. Traffic accidents, graffiti on walls, neighbours fighting over trees. We’re talking low-key drama. Then, two creepy men decide to chase me along the canal.”

“Mossbacks.”

“What backs? Okay, humour me, what are moosebacks?

A high-pitched whistling had Waverly out of her chair again. None of this was normal. Waverly watched as the old woman made a pot of tea, wondering whether she had stepped back in time, fifty or so years. The kitchen contained nothing modern. No microwave, no toaster, not even an electric kettle. Placing a cup and saucer in front of Waverly, Nan retrieved another set from the shelf, pouring the brew. She proceeded to add four spoons of sugar and a healthy splash of milk to her own, stirring, tipping some into the saucer, lifting it to her lips, sucking the pale brown liquid into her mouth. 

Nan’s eyes followed Waverly as she went to the sink to wash the blood from her own hand. “Mossbacks, what you might call mercenaries,” Nan explained. “Those who carry out the bidding of another. A soldier if you like. One who took the dirty penny once.”

“Why don’t you simply call them soldiers? Waverly asked, returning to her chair, all traces of blood removed.

Nicole danced her empty glass across the table. “Not just any soldier,” Nicole added. “Ceased to be.”

“So they’re no longer soldiers. Like ex-soldiers.”

“Ex-soldiers,” Nicole repeated, a smirk appearing. “As in, exceedingly dead.”

Waverly couldn’t tell if N was teasing. “Dead, as in you killed them, right? Or, dead as in dead, dead. Wait, I saw their hearts. They looked perfectly alive, well dead after what you did. Those hearts looked very alive for dead men. I’m so confused.”

“Brought back to life. Been in the ground so long moss starts growing. Moss. Backs,” Nicole said, exceptionally slowly, earning a glare from Waverly.

“Tell me I’m not having this conversation. Tell me I’m dreaming. This is a dream right. I’m still in the water, that’s it, or in bed…”

Speaking of which,” Nan interrupted, “I wasn’t expecting company. I’ve only one room ready, if you don’t mind sharing.”

“Fine by me,” Nicole replied, another smirk appearing on her face. 

Waverly was in no mood to sleep alongside a cocky demigod, especially one with blood-stained hands. “I really don’t mind sleeping on a couch, if you have one.”

“Nonsense,” Nan insisted, “the bed is more comfy. Plus, you’ll have N to protect you.”

“From something really bad," Nicole teased, "with fangs and sharp claws,” aping long teeth with her fingers.

“Another mossback?” Waverly asked, worried eyes telling Nicole she needed to dial it back.

“Different smell. Fresher. Probably another mortal. Mossbacks reek of damp earth.”

“Forgive me, but why would a mortal...why would someone be following us?”

“Beats me. Looking for you probably. You seem to attract weirdos.”

“You can say that again," Waverly replied, looking directly at Nicole. "Aren’t you going to see who it is?”

“Nope. Going to bed. Suggest you come too. Keep me warm.”

“I’m perfectly fine here, thank you. Plus, I haven’t finished my tea.”

\+ + + +

The cathedral was in darkness. The dean had held a service earlier that evening, noticing there were far fewer in attendance than usual. He understood. People were nervous, confused as to why something like this could have occurred to their beloved warden in their church, in a place supposedly safe from such an evil deed. 

The police were at the crime scene for most of the day, leaving shortly before the service commenced. They established the ominous words on the wall were written in human blood, although mysteriously not that of the warden. No trace of the warden’s lower half, no fingerprints, other than those of the cleaner, the warden and the Dean, no footprints, even though there was a large pool of blood underneath what was left of the body. The one piece of evidence baffling everyone was a scrap of paper stuffed in the warden’s mouth. Old, extremely old in fact, dating back centuries. On it was one letter, written in black ink.

On the day the warden's body was found, Waverly had been brought to the police station from the cathedral where she was interviewed at length by the police, one detective, early forties, bearded, joining the interview halfway through. She explained repeatedly she was there that morning to follow up on the missing stonemason case, the police officer nodding, taking notes, asking her again why she needed to see the warden. Waverly was beginning to wonder if the police were even bothered these incidents were occurring at the cathedral. She knew better than to get annoyed, patience being a virtue when dealing with those in uniform, especially in her line of work. 

She finally was allowed to leave late afternoon, calling her office to tell them she would write up her story as quickly as she could. Standing outside the station, she called her sister, needing to hear a friendly voice after hours of frankly pointless questioning. It went to voicemail, Waverly checking her messages to find Wynonna had been trying to contact her most of the day. 

Her flight from Los Angeles had been delayed. _No, no, no,_ Waverly thought, realising she was due to put Wynonna up for a few days while she was over doing interviews for her new film. A fantasy apocalypse, Wynonna playing the lead role, a brilliant detective who saves humanity with seconds to spare. As sisters they could not have been more different. Waverly the overly-cautious studious type, reasonably content with her less-than-exciting life in rural England, Wynonna international film star in the making jetting off to pastures new.

Waverly returned to her house, showering, changing, phoning her sister again. “Hi, where the hell have you been?” Wynonna asked. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you.”

“Police station. Too long a story. I can pick you up from Heathrow if you give me enough time.”

“So, you in trouble? Or, is this another one of your missing puppy stories?”

“More like missing half of a body.”

“Intriguing. Must go. Keep your phone on.”

Waverly sat at her computer typing up as much of the story as she could remember without her notes. Her mind returned to her first meeting with the warden, trying to recall if he had said anything she may have overlooked. One comment, in passing, nothing really. New chisel marks left on several of the underground pillars. That was it. Nothing more. She couldn’t even remember whether she had actually seen them during her tour. She scrolled through her photos hoping to have captured something useful. Nothing. 

Her phone rang. She answered without looking at the number, assuming it was Wynonna. “Waverly Earp?”

“Speaking. Who’s this?”

“Holliday. The detective assigned to the case you were questioned on.”

“Right.”

“I have a few more questions. Can we meet?”

“At the station? I need to collect my sister from the airport. I can come in tomorrow morning.”

“I’d rather talk away from there. Got a few ideas on the case I want your opinion on.”

“Off the record. Fine. Where were you thinking of meeting?”

“Three Horseshoes. You know it? Say six.”

The pub was busy, Waverly eventually spotting the detective at one of the tables in the far corner nursing a pint of bitter. She approached, hoping this meeting would add to her story, knowing she needed to be cautious as to what she revealed. He pushed his card across the table. “Detective Chief Inspector Holliday. This is quite a case, and I’ve seen a few.”

“Haven’t seen you at the station before,” Waverly replied, studying his card. “London based?” 

“Brought in for the warden. Hadn’t realised there was a missing person linked to the cathedral. That’s what I want to talk to you about. The notes on file are sparse. Just wondered if you could throw some light on it.”

“I would, but I left my notes at the cathedral. Don’t you think it odd someone has gone missing along with the warden’s death?”

“The station seems to think the missing stonemason is a domestic dispute. Guy not happy at home, runs off. I’d buy that, but for the warden.”

“It’s odd right,” Waverly replied, sipping her soda water and lime, knowing full well nothing was right with any of these cases.

Waverly’s phone buzzed, a text from Wynonna to say her plane was finally departing Los Angeles. DCI Holliday continued to press for information, Waverly shrugging, secretly wondering why all of a sudden she had become useful to the police. It was usually the other way round. “I’d like to help, but I really don’t know much more. Have you checked the outside CCTV footage yet? The day the warden was found. Maybe someone entering, or leaving the cathedral.”

“Funny you should mention that,” Holliday replied, taking a mouthful of beer, swallowing slowly, wiping his moustache. “Requested it, but the Dean said it’s gone.”

“Okay. That's odd too. What about footage from the day the stonemason vanished?”

“I’ll check with the Dean. I may need you to look at it with me, in case something jogs your memory.”

“You have my number. Sorry, need to pick up my sister. I’ll call if I think of anything.”

Waverly left the pub, thankful she had an excuse, heading towards the car park the other side of the canal bridge, her phone out texting Wynonna. Message sent, fumbling in her bag for the car keys, she sensed she was being watched. The car park was quiet, no one nearby, yet someone had their eyes on her. She could tell.

As she scanned the area she saw them, the same two men who had been seated at the back of the cathedral, still wearing gloves. Her hand shook as she tried to get the car key into the lock, her heart pounding through her chest, her breathing becoming faster, the need to get away imperative. Slamming the door, locking herself in, she inserted the key in the ignition. The engine groaned, a pitiful sound she didn’t want to hear. “Come on, come on,” she pleaded, as she turned the key again. “Please, please, for me baby. Momma needs you to start.”

A small flicker from the headlights told Waverly she had left them on by accident. A flat battery, no chance of driving away from whoever was lurking in the shadows, she had but one option. DCI Holliday. Calling his number, she waited for him to answer. Voicemail. Typical she thought, as she left a message. “It’s Waverly. I’m still in the car park. Two men are following me. Can you help?” 

She tried his number again. The same. “Think Waverly, think,” she muttered to herself, in a vain effort to calm her nerves. “Options. Stay in the car park with two creepy men, or, run to the pub.” She looked at the distance she would have to cover. “It’s not that far. You could run that easily Waves. Okay, okay, breathe, count three, then go.”

She took several deep breaths, her hands gripping the steering wheel for reassurance. “Okay. Okay, I’m doing this. Okay, three, two, one…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Three Horseshoes pub is located on the Grand Union Canal in Hertfordshire, sitting next to one of the canal locks (Winkwell Lock). It's old, dating back in parts from 1535. It was once farm cottages with a shop to the rear and stables nearby. It was a regular stopping point for the bargees who would buy their groceries and refreshments and stable their horses overnight. Canal horses were shoed in the village forge which was originally attached to the cottage next to the pub, presumably how the pub got its name. [ Three Horseshoes, Winkwell](https://www.the3horseshoeswinkwell.co.uk/the-three-horseshoes.asp)
> 
> Horseshoes are important symbols. Hung with the points facing upwards, they are said to bring luck. Hung downwards they are supposed to be unlucky. Chldren's shoes were also thought to do the same.


	4. Damp Waverly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly takes a cold bath...

The car door open, Waverly ran for her life, managing to get to the small bridge just before the pub. A hand grabbed her collar. “Not so fast. You have something of ours.”

She let out a scream, her elbow instinctively shooting back as she had been taught in self-defence classes. No time to think, she felt the grip on her clothing release momentarily, allowing her to wriggle free. Pulling away, the only escape route was along the gravel towpath beside the canal. 

She was running, two men now in pursuit, her life dependent on whether she could outrun those who were coming for her. Whatever they thought she had, whoever they thought she was, she was certain her life was in danger. Small stones crunched under her feet as she pounded along the path, gasping as her legs carried her as fast as they could. There were footsteps behind, getting nearer, she couldn’t tell if it was one person or two, her head craning a little to check. Only one. Only one was now following her. _Where was the other one,_ she thought, as she picked up speed. 

The lights of the marina were a welcome sight. A way off, but not that far, she gauged. She could make it. She had to make it. Someone would be in, her lungs beginning to hurt, someone on one of the boats would be able to help. No more than a hundred yards now, she guessed, pushing herself on. Nearer, and nearer, she could see smoke drifting up from several narrowboat chimneys, a feeling of relief someone might be able to help. 

A sudden shove between the shoulder blades sent her flying, landing heavily on the grassy verge alongside the path. A knee pressed into her back, her arms pulled behind, her wrists tied tightly, her body flipped over like a fish in a frying pan. “You really shouldn’t have done that,” the man instructed, “I’ve a good mind to throw you in just for that. Teach you a lesson. Teach you not to go running off.”

The other man approached, a rope in his hand, tying it round her waist. “Too right, let’s dunk her. Want to see her eyes when she comes up for air.”

“Please,” Waverly begged. “I’m sorry. Whoever you are, whatever you want, I’ll go with you. I’m just a local journalist. I’m not that important.”

The two men hauled her up, moving her to the edge of the canal. “A wet one, more like it.” Another shove to her back. “In you go ducky.”

\+ + + +

Waverly sat nursing the last of her tea, not wanting to go upstairs. The final sip taken, she placed her cup back on the saucer looking over at Nan who was busy slurping the last of hers. “Have you lived here long?” she asked, a polite enquiry plucked from the many questions swirling in her head, not really interested in knowing its answer.

“A while. Too long to recall," Nan replied, reaching across for Waverly’s cup, turning it over, allowing the tea leaves at the bottom to scatter across the saucer. “You haven’t asked me the question you most want to ask. I can see it in your eyes. It’s in the eyes of everyone N brings to me.”

Waverly studied Nan’s face. Old, wise, deep lines, a pale, ghostly complexion. “How do you know N?”

Nan returned her gaze to the saucer. “Very interesting. Not seen this before. Who did you say you are?”

“Waverly Earp. Journalist. You didn’t answer my question.”

“Waverly Earp. Earp. You from round here?”

“Yes. Well, I am. My family moved here shortly before I was born.”

“Your leaves tell me you hold the key.”

“How? How can leaves possibly tell you that?”

“That symbol there in the middle," Nan replied, pointing to a splodge of leaves that meant nothing to Waverly. "And, that symbol in the top right, very auspicious. Although, I don’t like the look of the two at the bottom. Be careful, that’s all I say. Especially who you trust.”

Waverly stared at the saucer. Leaves, that’s all she could see, a collection of loose tea leaves with no discernible pattern. “Thanks. Sorry, how do you know N?”

Nan looked up, smiling. “Saved my life.”

“Right. And, she’s to be trusted?”

“Moody. Drinks too much. Hard to love. But, that’s the way she wants it, especially when you’ve lived as long as she has. But, yes, to be trusted.”

“How old is she?”

“Very, my dear. Now, let me show you where the bedroom is.”

\+ + + +

Holliday was parked near the cathedral, far enough away not to be seen, near enough to use his binoculars. He needed to gather his thoughts about the case, mull over the few pieces of information that female journalist had been able to offer. He could tell she was holding back, not wanting to reveal too much. His eyes were trained on a small side entrance, the one Waverly mentioned the stonemason had last been seen entering the church. He had waited there for hours, the town’s clock reminding him he really needed to return to his hotel room, get some sleep. He rubbed his eyes, stretched, took a sip of cold cappuccino. All looked quiet, the lights of the cathedral were off, an ominous darkness inside, windows like the beady black eyes of a spider peering down on the town. 

He was about to leave, realising it was a futile exercise spying on an empty building, when the door opened. A lone figure emerged, the hood of a cloak over their head making it impossible to tell whether they were male or female, carrying what appeared to be buckets in each hand, disappearing round the corner. He was out of the car, skirting the boundary wall, keeping low, eyes scanning between the gravestones for any sign of the figure. Gone. 

Curiosity getting the better, he approached the graveyard, moving quietly between headstones, keeping low. There was no sign of the mysterious figure. Nowhere for them to go, no exit in the boundary wall near enough for that person to have got to in the time it took Holliday to reach the site. Returning to his car, he checked the time on his phone. It was dead, swearing out loud, knowing he should have upgraded months ago. He plugged it in, starting the engine, heading back to the hotel. He had gone no more than a few miles when his phone buzzed. One new voicemail. 

\+ + + +

Nicole was asleep when Waverly entered the room, Nan having shown her where to find the bathroom, wishing her a pleasant sleep. She sat on the edge of the bed, reluctant to join her rescuer. _Who was she?_ Waverly wondered, _other than being very old, apparently in the business of saving people, and a snorer._ “Great, and I’m a light sleeper,” she grumbled. “My life sucks. Fuck, Wynonna. I completely forgot about Wyn.”

She reached for her phone in her back pocket. “Where’s my phone? Damn, left it in the car. Okay, that’s okay. Better than it being at the bottom of the canal. I can get it tomorrow. No, I left the car unlocked. That’s it, my life officially sucks. And, my bag. And, my house keys too. Waves, you complete idiot.”

“I’m trying to sleep here, if you don’t mind. And, less of the swearing. I’m a demigod remember. Tres sensitive.”

“Look, I’m really not comfortable with this sleeping arrangement thing we’ve got going on here. You and me, in the same bed. Together. I mean, I’m really grateful you saved me from those guys, but I’m really particular about who I sleep with. I’m a one bed, one person type of girl normally. Unless I know someone quite well, and I don't know you from Adam.”

“He's actually quite a nice chap when you do get to know him," Nicole quipped. "Eve's a bit of a minx. Fine. You take the bed. If I’d known you were going to be this much trouble.”

Nicole threw back the duvet, standing, stretching, walking to the corner of the room, leaning her head against the wall. Waverly’s mouth fell open staring at the sight before her. “You’re seriously not going to stand there like that are you?”

Nicole opened her eyes, turning her head slightly. “What? You don’t want me in the bed. You don’t want me against the wall. Pray, what do you want Eve?”

“Well, for starters, if you could possibly put some clothes on.”

“It’s all natural. My body’s exactly like yours. Part human, if you hadn’t realised.”

Waverly wished she had a body like Nicole’s. “Okay, okay. Get back into bed. You’ll freeze standing there. Honestly, if I’d known demigods were this much trouble.”

Nicole hopped back into bed. “For the record, I don’t get cold. Warm hearted, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Right. Sorry, one more request. Could you possibly not look at me while I’m undressing?”

“Why? You saw mine. I need to see if you were worth the effort of saving. I mean, fair’s fair. And, it’s only fair I get to see yours.”

“That’s it. I’ve had it up to here with being a plaything. Just because I saw yours doesn’t give you the right to see mine. Honestly, what do they teach you at demigod school? How to be rude. I really am not…and, another thing…” The wide grin on Nicole’s face told Waverly everything. “You’re winding me up? God, trust me to be stuck with Joker demigod. Really, you should do stand up. You're a natural.”

“Of course I won’t look. Much. But, your face." Nicole placed a little finger in her mouth, mimicking a fish on a fisherman's hook.

“Seriously, fuck off,” Waverly shouted. “And, another thing, why was Auntie checking me for marks?"

"To make sure you were clean.”

“I am clean. Showered this morning. Oh, and had a bath in the canal.”

“No. Clean. Not carrying the mark of someone who's been initiated.”

“Initiated into what? Can you please just tell me in plain English?”

“Best not. Not yet. Too much for you to understand.”

That did it. Waverly grabbed a pillow, hurling it at Nicole who caught it, offering it for a second throw. Waverly stormed out to find the bathroom, sitting on the side of the bath shaking, not quite sure what to do. She returned to find Nicole asleep, snoring. Crawling into bed, she lay there wanting her old life back, wanting to see where her new life would take her.

So much to process. Questions continued to rattle inside her head, like why was she now lying next to a naked demigod? Do all demigod’s sleep naked, do all demigod’s have such fantastic bodies, or smell this good? The sort of questions that would keep her awake most of the night. There was also the matter of her missing phone, her bag and her keys, not to mention her unlocked car. All making it impossible to switch off. 

She sat up, scanning the room, looking for something to read, anything to distract her busy mind. It was too dark to see, a small lamp on a nightstand beside the bed remedying that problem. Drawing her knees up, she rocked herself without realising, still searching for a mental distraction.

“Not going to be able to sleep if you keep doing that,” Nicole said, pulling a pillow over her head. “And, turn that light off.”

“I need something to occupy me. My mind won’t let me rest.”

“Funnily enough, mine can,” Nicole mumbled, from under the pillow. “Surprising what you can do without when you haven’t got it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, when you’ve been somewhere where there’s nothing, you learn not to rely on outside distractions.”

“You know, the more I learn about demigods the more I realise you have no ability to say things straight. You make everything so mysterious. All hokus pokus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm used to seeing narrowboats moored along the side of the canal and at [Apsley Marina](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZ8Qhmp85sk). 
> 
> For many these are permanent homes, lived in all year round, some choosing to moor their boat in one location, others using them to explore the waterways around the UK. It's a more simple lifestyle, given there's not a huge amount of room on these boats. 
> 
> The following video gives you an idea of what the inside of a narrowboat looks like: [Narrowboat Living](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VG5H9UkyMd4)


	5. Empty Spaces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole comes to Waverly's rescue...again...

Nicole extracted herself from under her makeshift sanctuary, sitting up, bending her legs to mirror Waverly. “Fifteen years in a prison cell. Alone. No bed, no chair, no sunlight. That’s how I know.”

“Fifteen years. How? How did you survive?”

“Made friends with the roaches. Played chess with them. Lost a few times. So annoying. An insect beating a demigod.”

Waverly turned her head to look at Nicole. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you.”

“Best not. Sent me mad a few times.”

“Only a few.”

Nicole laughed. A natural laugh, carefree, like that of a child. “Say one thing. You’re far cheekier than a cockroach.”

“Thanks. I really wish I had my phone. My sister’s flying over from the States. She’s expecting me to collect her from the airport.”

“Okay, fine, tell me. Where’s your phone?”

“Hopefully, still in my car,” Waverly replied.

“And, where is your car?”

“At the pub, with my bag. Probably gone by now. Left it unlocked. Mind you, I was in a bit of a hurry to get away from the moss brothers.”

Nicole sighed. “Which pub? Or, would you like me to guess. I mean, we can keep this up all night. Me asking you a question, you giving me some of the answer. Me asking another question.”

“Three Horseshoes. Why?”

Nicole was out of bed, dressing, inserting her knives into their sheaths. “Won’t be long. Don't wait up honey.”

“Seriously, where are you going at this time of night?”

“To get your phone, if it’s still there. Unless you want to keep playing the guessing game.”

“But, it’s miles away. It will take you all night to get back to the pub. Anyway, it’s probably stolen by now, seeing I left the car unlocked.”

“What does your car look like?”

“Lime green, VW. Named it Marco, because it’s a Polo. This is mad. I’m happy to wait till tomorrow, honestly.”

Nicole folded her arms, waiting for Waverly to make up her mind. Waverly simply stared at Nicole’s now clothed body lost in thought. “Fine. I’ll get back into bed then shall I,” Nicole advised, knowing Waverly was not going to make a decision any time soon. “Leave your car unlocked all night. Let you sit there rocking yourself, light on, not disturbing me in the slightest.”

“Unless. I mean, you’re dressed now…”

“I’m beginning to miss those annoying roaches.”

Nicole left the bedroom. Waverly heard the front door close, lying back in the bed, wondering how Nicole would be able to cover the distance to the pub, wondering if her phone would still be in the car, wondering if her life would ever be the same. It wouldn’t. She had entered a new world, a world where normal no longer applied. A world navigated by a stranger with whom she was sharing a strange bed, in a strange house.

\+ + + +

Holliday listened to the voicemail. He could hear the speed with which Waverly was speaking, the panicky request for help. He checked the time of the message. If someone had ambushed her in the car park she could be long gone, or worse. He called her number. No reply. He knew he had to check the pub. He had no choice. Pulling away from the hotel, he drove along quiet roads, the full moon casting a strange, grey-blue glow over the countryside, the sound of his engine penetrating the deathly silence. 

He turned into the narrow lane leading to the pub, the overhanging trees creating a sinister tunnel, obscuring the moon, the only light coming from the front of his car picking out the way forward. The pub was in darkness, white walls now grey, the pub’s name barely visible. He continued over the narrow bridge, entering the car park where only one car remained. Alone. Abandoned. Absent a driver, he already knew this must be Waverly’s. Grabbing his flashlight, he tried the passenger door first, then the driver’s. Both locked. He shone the flashlight inside. A neat pile of papers, notebooks and magazines on the backseat, along with several paperbacks and a delicate pink cardigan, the one he remembered her wearing during the interview at the police station. 

He moved his light across the deserted car park, scanning for anything unusual, hoping not to find Waverly, or anything belonging to her. Nothing, other than a scattering of litter around the edges, a pile of disused tyres in one corner. He called her number again, listening for a ringing tone beyond that coming from his own phone. Nothing. Gone.

\+ + + +

Auntie nursed a large whiskey, listening to Xavier and his latest theories on what was developing in this sleepy English backwater. He had a tendency to hang around long after the others departed, purely on the off chance of more delicious homemade cake, as well as to receive her wise counsel. As the designated carer of the group, Auntie was in a position to provide sound, impartial advice on what should be done in any given situation, those with strengths beyond any mortal having a tendency to go in punching without much consideration for the consequences of their actions. 

Like him, she too was tired. So very tired of fighting the darker forces that co-existed in the world, tired of defending the innocent against those who would seek to enslave them, use them, simply for their own gain. The years attending to the needs and wounds of those who fell into her care had taken their toll, her desire not to bring about another battle topmost in her mind. If she could help it. 

For as long as she could remember this had been her way of life. Her life with Nicole. Her rescuer. Her protector. She shared a past much like Waverly and Nan, having been saved by their demigod. The night Auntie’s entire family perished in a house fire, Nicole had scaled the side of the building, plucking a terrified little girl from the first-floor balcony about to collapse under her. With no family left, Nicole brought the little girl to her villa on the outskirts of Rome, promising she would look after her, promising to keep her safe. That was many, many years ago, her bond with Nicole becoming that of a child to a mother, gradually forgetting about her own family, coming to care for the person who had kept her alive.

Her love for her demigod only deepened as she grew to know her. It was the sadness in Nicole’s eyes she longed to ease. The loneliness, the heart-aching separateness that comes when you live longer than everyone around you. The pushing away of anyone that might come close enough to love her for fear of seeing them age and die before her very eyes. Her powers only allowed for a limited extension to the life of any human she chose as a companion, the body eventually needing to be at rest, the soul needing its release from this mortal coil. Nicole had tried in vain to prolong the life of her first love, only for it to eventually drive her mad, begging her demigod lover to release her, let her go, let her sleep. Forever.

\+ + + +

Waverly heard the small stone tap on the glass. Then another. Then another. Looking out she saw Nicole below, holding up her bag, waving at her. She rushed downstairs, opening the door, Nicole pushing past, sweating. Waverly took the bag from her, closing the door, pleased to have it in her hands once more. “That was quick. You okay? You look like you’ve been running.”

“Just need a moment, not used to this much exercise,” Nicole replied, panting, sliding herself down the wall of the hallway. “Need a drink. That was further than I thought.”

Waverly was busy rummaging through the contents. “My phone. My lovely phone. And, all my keys. And, my purse. Did you lock the car after you?”

“Left it open. Of course I locked the car. Do I get a thank you?”

“Sorry. Yes. Thank you.”

“I mean a real thanks,” Nicole added, a finger pointing to her cheek. 

“Oh, right. As in…you want me to. Right.”

Nicole nodded, Waverly hesitating, knowing what Nicole had done for her deserved a kiss, not entirely comfortable about it. She edged nearer, kneeling, putting one hand against the wall to steady herself, hearing snoring. _Great,_ she thought, _lead me on then fall asleep._ Shaking her shoulder, attempting to wake Nicole, she got little more than a snort, too deep in sleep to be roused. She fetched a woollen throw from the bed, placing it over Nicole's body, tucking it round her shoulders, standing back to capture her image on her phone.

Sitting in bed, she scrolled through her messages. None from Wynonna yet, thankfully. She left a voicemail. “Wyn, listen. My car’s out of action. When you land can you get a cab to mine and let yourself in. I’ll try to get back as soon as I can. Sorry. Love you. So much to tell you it’s untrue. Bye.”

Several missed calls from DCI Holliday, plus a voicemail. She listened, deciding she needed to call him, put him out of his misery. He sounded sleepy when he eventually answered. “Hi, it’s Waverly, Waverly Earp. The journalist. I’m OK.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m safe. Just a little jittery with everything that’s going on. Thought someone was in the car park with me. Seeing shadows everywhere these days.”

“Your car is still at the pub.”

“Flat battery. Need to sort it out tomorrow.”

“And, you’re definitely OK. No one has you.”

“I’m fine.”

Holliday could tell something was amiss with her explanation. His police training told him she was withholding something, the same feeling he had speaking with her in the pub and during the interview at the police station. She knew more than she was admitting.

Nicole entering the bedroom woke her. She pretended to be asleep, peeking out from under the duvet as her demigod undressed again, carefully placing her knives in a cross shape on top of the pile, moving round the bed to the empty side, pulling the pillow over her head once more.

“I know you were looking,” she said, as Waverly lay still. “I don’t mind. Not every day you get to see a body as great as mine.”

Waverly desperately wanted to say something, but was beginning to realise how much Nicole enjoyed baiting her. 

“I mean, fabulous muscle tone, fantastic hair, face to die for. And, funny too...”

“Okay, enough. Yes, you have a great body. And, I bet you don’t even have gym membership.”

“Actually, I do. Down pumping weights most days.”

“Really? Which one? Not the one in the centre of town. Wait. Stop it. Stop treating me like someone you can tease all the time. You’re so like my sister, always winding me up.”

“But, you are my little fishy. Remember.”

Waverly’s hand instinctively went out to punch Nicole in the back. “I’m not your fishy.”

“Ouch. Demigods are quite delicate you know.”

“Sorry. Fuck. Stop it,” Waverly replied, turning onto her back. “You know, there’s something annoyingly childish about you that’s also quite endearing.”

“Funny you should say that. The roaches said exactly the same.”

Waverly held her sides, the first real belly laugh she had had in a long time.

N was growing on her.


	6. Foreign Languages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly's curiosity about Nicole grows...

Waverly woke to the sound of the dawn chorus. The sun was breaking through the trees, soft light entering the room where she spent the night sleeping next to a demigod, bringing it back to life. Decorative flower patterns in pinks and greens covered the walls, large wooden pieces of furniture filled the space, solid pieces that would not look out of place in an antiques shop. Her eyes fell on a handful of books on a shelf in the far corner, hopping out of bed she perused the titles. She had three in her hand by the time she returned to the warmth of her side.

Nicole remained buried under a pillow for most of the night, alternating between snoring and mumbling to herself. Waverly had had to nudge her a few times when she became too noisy, earning a groan. Placing her selection of reading matter on the nightstand, she picked up the first book. A hardback, that unmistakable smell of old paper, holding it to her nose to take in its delicious scent, intoxicated by the grassy vanilla aroma. 

Opening the front cover, she read the inscription. “To my dearest Nancy, May you delight in the journey you are about to embark upon with this story. Your loving N.” 

She guessed Nancy must be Nan, turning to the first chapter to begin the delightful journey herself. Nicole was becoming restless, her mumbling now a string of words Waverly was having difficulty in placing. She paused her reading. “Non aver paura. Sei al sicuro bambino.”

 _Was it Italian she was speaking,_ Waverly wondered, listening carefully. A jumble of more words, definitely Italian she concluded as Nicole repeated one phrase over and over. “Ti amo. Ti amo.” 

Even Waverly knew what that meant. Whoever Nicole was thinking about, she obviously had romantic feelings for them. Deciding it best to leave the sleeping lover with whoever was dancing in her dreams, she dressed, making her way to the kitchen, phone in one hand, the book she had just begun in the other. Finding the light switch, she stood looking at the range recalling the sound of hissing hearts from the previous night.

Desperate for a cup of tea, she filled the kettle, placing it on the top of the range, tentatively opening the door, scared of what she might see inside. A new pile of tinder and newspaper awaited ignition. A match in her hand, she struck it against the side of the box several times until it burst into flames, moving it to the newspaper. Her phone buzzed with a message from Wynonna to say she had arrived at the house. _Fuck,_ she thought, remembering she had no transport and a car in need of a jump start. She sent a message telling Wynonna she would try to get back as soon as she could.

Nan entered wearing the same flowery apron and matching slippers from the night before. “I see you found one of my books.”

“Hope you don’t mind. Are you Nancy?”

“I am, my dear. N gave me that particular one on my sixteenth birthday. It's a first edition. She’s a book lover too. Don’t get her started on all the famous authors she’s met. She’ll go on for hours.”

“Can imagine. She was mumbling something in Italian during the night. Is she from Italy?”

“French by birth. Her mother was an aristocrat from a family of wine growers. Could be where she gets her thirst for drinking.”

“French. And, her father? I’m assuming he was a god.”

“Diplomat. Mother had an affair.”

“You giving my life away Nan?” Nicole asked as she entered the kitchen.

“Waverly wanted to know why you were speaking Italian. I was about to explain. Let me make everyone breakfast. Bacon sandwiches all round.”

“Sorry, I’m vegan. Plain toast if you have it.”

“No need to be sorry. N, you would like a bacon sandwich wouldn’t you?”

“Love one Nan. So, you want to know about me?”

“If you’re French why were you saying something in Italian?”

“Moved to Italy, to have contact with my father.”

“The diplomat?”

“My real father.”

“Who was…who is a god?”

“You’re quite astute for a journalist.”

“And, you’re quite rude for a demigod.”

“Touché. Nan, do you have any more of that delicious vodka for me?”

“Oh N, not this early in the morning surely. Have some breakfast first. Line your stomach.”

“Just one. I promise. It will set me up right for the day.”

Nan rolled her eyes, pulling a bottle from the shelf, filling a tumbler, placing it in front of Nicole. “Just one. You know what you’re like on that stuff.”

Nicole raised her glass, Waverly’s eyes fixed on hers, waiting for them to change colour. “To your health. To the Gods who made me.”

In the morning light, the violet glow from Nicole’s eyes was truly mesmerising. Waverly lost herself in them, failing to hear the kettle whistling, failing to notice Nan putting a hot cup of tea on the table before her. As the light in Nicole’s eyes faded, Waverly snapped out of her trance, looking down confused as to how the drink had mysteriously appeared. Nan was now sitting beside her, smiling. “Don’t get too lost in those pretty peepers of hers. She can be very persuasive if you’re not careful.”

“I…thank you. I just need to use the bathroom.”

Waverly got up, feeling slightly unsteady on her legs, her heart beating faster than normal. She headed upstairs, locking the door behind her, taking deep breaths. _OK, calm down,_ she counselled herself, _you’re tired and having a moment. Must not look into her eyes again, ever._ Her phone in her hand, she rang Wynonna. Hearing her sister’s voice was reassuring. “Waverly where are you? I’m shattered. Going to lie down for a few hours.”

“Staying with a friend. I’m getting a cab home. There’s food in the fridge, I think.”

“Cool. Which friend? Do I know them?”

“No. No one you know. New friend.”

“Interesting. New friend, as in potential.”

“No. Definitely not. See you later. Love you.”

Waverly ended the call, her finger hovering over the camera icon, temptation getting the better. She pulled up the photo she had taken, studying her demigod’s face, feeling her heart begin to race again.

A taxi ordered, she finished her breakfast, deliberately not looking at the person sitting opposite for fear of being entranced once more. A car horn sounded outside, Waverly thanking Nan for the generous loan, promising to return the book once read. 

Nicole followed her to the entrance, hanging back. “Call if you need rescuing.”

“Wait. You’re not coming with me? My notes are at the cathedral. You said…”

“Things to do. People to see. Gym membership to take out.”

“But, I…”

“You thought I’d stay with you.”

“No. I…Will I see you again?”

“Perhaps. Probably, if you end up in the canal.”

“I mean, you could just come with me to the cathedral. In case, you know, any dead men are waiting.”

Nicole studied Waverly’s face. “I’m flattered. Really. It’s been a long time. But, I fly solo, you understand.”

“Fine. Look, take my number. I still owe you that drink for saving my life.”

“No need. Be well Waverly Earp. My little fish.”

Her house was quiet when she entered. Wynonna’s bags were still in the hall, one case already open, several items of clothing on the floor along with a pair of trainers. Waverly climbed the stairs, checking the spare room, seeing her sister fast asleep. A shower and a change of clothes, she turned on her computer reading her first attempt at the cathedral story. 

She needed her notes. Leaving a handwritten message for her sister, she headed to the cathedral, a ten minute walk from where she lived. There were a few people milling around outside, worshippers from the morning service. Waverly entered through the main door, taking in the sights and sounds. For such a majestic building, it now reeked of death and danger, making her shudder, as if an icy finger was tracing a line slowly down her spine. The last image she had of the warden entered her mind, the words painted in blood on the wall. She glanced over to where the mossbacks had sat, wishing she had asked Nicole, or Nan, how the living dead could enter a place of worship, suddenly realising it made little difference. The phrase ‘saints and sinners walk among us’ leapt into her head.

She spotted Holliday talking with the Dean, not sure whether to make her presence known, or simply check the office by herself for her notebook. Guessing it would be locked, she approached, the Dean pausing the conversation as she drew near. “Hi, sorry, I left my notebook here yesterday. Wondered if it’s still there.”

“We can check if you like,” the Dean replied. “It’s still sealed off. DCI Holliday wants to see the room.”

They followed the Dean, the two standing back as he opened the door. The stench of blood was stronger than the day before, Waverly putting her hand to her mouth to stop her retching. The Dean refused to enter, saying he would wait until the room had been cleaned and a holy cleansing ritual performed before he set foot in there again. 

Waverly entered, Holliday behind, their eyes falling on the back wall. “Does anything strike you as odd?” he asked, moving towards the writing. “Like it shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m not a detective” Waverly replied. “If I was, I’d say all of this is odd. Not your typical murder scene.”

“Right. Not your typical murder scene. Got it in one.”

“Okay. House point to me. What’s your point?”

“A macabre murder, a body dangling on public display, someone writing a vague message and a symbol in the warden’s mouth. All a little too staged for my taste.”

“Not following.”

“I’ve seen ritual murders before. Satanic sacrifices. This has the feeling of being overly theatrical. A magician’s misdirection. We’re deliberately being led down a particular path.”

“Right,” Waverly replied. “Still not following.”

“There are far too many clues, not enough evidence.”

Unable to fathom what Holliday was theorising, her eyes searched for her notebook, spotting it on the table where she had left it. “Thank fuck for that. Sorry. Force of habit.”

Holliday offered to give her lift, she declining, saying she had things to do. She needed to get her car back. She needed to sort out Wynonna. She also had a thousand questions she needed answering.

The taxi dropped her as near to the canal as practical. She walked the last few yards towards the narrowboats, hoping to see Nicole. Smoke billowed from the chimney of the first boat, Auntie’s boat, Waverly feeling a flutter in her stomach as she approached. She could hear Auntie’s voice inside, talking to Rosita. She knocked, waiting for someone to let her in. Rosita opened the door, grinning when she saw who it was. “Couldn’t keep away. Come in.”

“I’m looking for N. Is she here?”

“Two boats up. Blue door. She’s been drinking.”

“I just need to ask her a few things.”

“Won’t get much sense out of her till this evening.”

Waverly walked along the tow path until she came to the one Rosita said Nicole would be in. She could hear snoring, wondering whether it would be best to return another time. The urge to see her took over, entering the cabin, Nicole sprawled out on the seat, her long knives laying on top of her body, a bottle of Nan’s vodka half-finished on the floor. 

Waverly was still gazing at Nicole when Rosita entered. “Always the same when she starts again. We try to keep that stuff away from her.”

“She’s an alcoholic?”

“She’ll go for a while without a drop, then something will set her off. Reckon it was you.”

“Tell me, are you always this nice to strangers, or are you making an exception for me?”

Rosita studied Waverly’s face. “I like you. You’re funny. Although, I think N’s got her eye on you.”

“That’s it. I’m not anyone's fish. I’m not anyone’s eye candy. And, I’m not responsible for anyone’s drinking relapses.”

“Nice. A feisty one. Just what N needs.”

Waverly scowled, her hands moving to her hips, about to launch into a tirade of expletives. Nicole opened one eye. “Can you stop fighting over me, my head’s spinning.”

Rosita beckoned Waverly. “Let’s go to the other boat. Leave grumpy pants to sleep off her boozy breakfast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non aver paura = Do not be afraid  
> Sei al sicuro bambino = You are safe baby  
> Ti amo = I love you.
> 
> VELLICHOR: For lovers of books, there is nothing more distinctive and melancholy than the sight and smell of old books, redolent of dust and decayed hopes. The word 'vellichor' appears on John Koenig’s wonderfully named site The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. 
> 
> John Koenig wrote of his creation that it meant:
> 
> The strange wistfulness of used bookstores, which are somehow infused with the passage of time, filled with thousands of old books you’ll never have time to read, each of which is itself locked in its own era, bound and dated and papered over like an old room the author abandoned years ago, a hidden annex littered with thoughts left just as they were on the day they were captured.


	7. Guest Bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wynonna wants to know what her sister has been up to with a stranger...

Waverly followed Rosita along the towpath, entering Robin and Jeremy’s abode, the pair out on surveillance for Auntie. Rosita checked the fridge, extracting a bottle of tonic water, offering some to her guest. Waverly’s eyes took in how different this boat was to Nicole’s. 

A bookshelf holding a library of comics and action films. A pair of Samurai swords mounted on the ceiling. A lived-in look suggesting they both liked a tidy space, not necessarily one that was pristine. Then again, Nicole’s boat could definitely do with a clean.

“What’s it like being a demigod?” Waverly asked, taking a sip of the drink Rosita handed to her, wishing it was tea.

“Lonely. Boring till I met the others. Auntie brought us together.”

“She’s a demigod too? 

“No. Came with N from Rome. N listens to her, as we all do. She was the one who told her she needed to find her own kind. To stop her being so lonely.”

“You’re all the family she has?”

“Been together a long time. Well, Jeremy and Robin have been together forever. I’m paired with N.”

“Right. Oh, right. As in…”

“Not like that. We live together, we do our own thing. I prefer humans anyway.”

“And, N. Who does she prefer?”

“The good looking ones,” Rosita replied, throwing Waverly a sly glance. “Although, after her partner died she never found another.”

Waverly took another sip. “She told me she was imprisoned.”

“Surprised she mentioned that. Did she tell you I was the one who got her out? She was in a bad way, took Auntie months to get her to talk again. Stood in a corner most days, head against the wall mumbling to herself. Even broke my heart.”

“Forgive me, but how does a demigod manage to get themselves locked up? I mean, don’t you have superpowers, or super strength. Or, super something…I don’t know. Aren't you invincible?”

“We are, compared to mortals, except when up against more powerful entities. N was tricked. Thought she was rescuing a child. That’s her weakness. Sucker for saving tiny mortals.”

Waverly’s phone buzzed, Wynonna asking if she needed anything from the shops. “Must go. Can you tell N I need to discuss the story I’m working on with her.”

She pulled a notebook and pen from her bag. “Here’s my address and number. Can you make sure she gets it? Does she have a number I can reach her?”

Rosita wrote Nicole’s number on the pad, Waverly reading it, smiling. “Never thought I’d be adding a demigod to my list of contacts.”

She started to enter it, a flutter in her stomach as an entry for N appeared with the same number. She wondered how Nicole had managed to access her phone. It didn’t matter. She had, that’s all that mattered. And, clearly N wanted to remain in contact.

Wynonna was busy unpacking bags of shopping as she entered the house, calling out to say she was in the kitchen. Her luggage remained in the hall, more items on the floor, Wynonna presumably having gone through her case to find something to wear. Kettle on, the sisters caught up on their respective news. Wynonna was excited about her forthcoming interviews, begging Waverly to at least come to one with her to meet the other stars. Waverly promised she would do her best, but was knee deep in a story for which she needed answers.

Her mind was elsewhere, mostly on when she should call Nicole. Yet another question that was at the forefront of her mind. How long does a demigod hangover last? A knock on the front door answered that question. “Oh, hi. Come in. Sorry about the mess. My sister’s here, hence everything left in the hall. How’s your head?”

“I wanted to apologise. I offered to go with you to get your notes. We can go now if you like.”

“It’s okay, I’ve been to the cathedral already. Was a little surprised you didn’t come with me, especially after last night.”

Nicole hovered in the hallway, not wanting to talk in front of another stranger. “See, thing is, Nan’s vodka. Once I get a taste for it.”

“Rosita told me. I understand. Really I do. Please come in. I’m dying for Wyn to meet you.”

Nicole followed her to the kitchen, Wynonna eyeing up her baby sister’s friend. She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Waverly’s sister. I work in films. Over here to promote my latest.”

“N. Waverly can I speak with you?”

“Would you like tea? Or, water, we have water.”

“Nothing. It won’t take a moment.”

Waverly followed her back into the hallway. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m here to offer my services. To protect you. I’d prefer if you were on the boat with me. That way you’ll have me and Rosita, plus the others. Thing is, there’s not enough room for the four of us.”

“You could stay here with us. Blast, I’ve only two beds. Wyn’s in one.”

“I don't mind sharing with you.”

Waverly’s eyes flashed, another flutter in her stomach. “You most certainly won’t. That was a one off. If you’re okay sleeping on the couch. And, keep your clothes on this time. My sister might be walking around.”

“Suit yourself. Guess I won’t hear you moaning all night.”

“Shush, Wyn will hear. Do you need to get anything from the boat?”

“I’ll get Ros to bring my things over. Would it be alright if I put my head down for a few hours? Still feeling the effects of Nan’s special brew?”

“Sure. Look, take my room. For now. I need to work and you snore.”

“That’s what the roaches said.”

“Really. So childish.”

She showed Nicole to her room, closing the door, returning to the kitchen. The look on Wynonna’s face told her she had heard everything. “Spill. Who is she really?”

“Saved me from the canal. She’s staying with us for a few days.”

“Oh my God, Waves, what have I told you about jogging along that canal? Didn’t I say it was dangerous.”

“It’s fine. Just glad N fished me out. Owe her my life.”

“By the sound of it, you did a pretty good job thanking her last night.”

Waverly felt the heat in her cheeks. “It’s not how it sounds. We shared a bed, that’s all.”

“I mean, she’s gorgeous. Never had you down for the rugged type.”

“Her dress sense is a little on the masculine Armageddon side, I agree. And, if you hadn’t noticed, she’s a woman.”

“Who happened to be naked in bed with you.”

“Wyn, nothing happened. Cross my heart.”

“Right. Nothing happened,” Wynonna repeated, with air quotes.

Waverly rolled her eyes. “I need to get on with my story. You okay entertaining yourself for a few hours.”

Waverly poured over her notes, trying to remember everything the warden had said, her mind a jumble of information and questions. She paused, closing her eyes, retracing her steps with the man who had met with a grizzly end.

They had left his room, stopping in the offices to collect a flashlight, proceeding to the main aisle of the church, walking its length, the warden detailing the history of the building as she scribbled notes. Then to Saint Alban's shrine, where the bones of the martyr lay. She remembered stopping to take a photo, wondering if it was allowed, the warden nodding. 

He had moved towards a door off to one side, no more than four feet high. He mentioned only the humble could enter heaven, that they were now entering the lower section of the church, that it would be chilly and she should watch her step.

They had descended a narrow staircase, footsteps echoing on stone, a musty smell hitting her nose as she reached the bottom. There before her was a large stone coffin in the centre of the crypt, the final resting place of some wealthy benefactor. She had taken another photo, for no other reason than her training instilled in her the practice of collecting facts, asking questions. Another door in the far wall, the warden unlocking it, switching on his torch, holding the door open. His words still clear in her memory. “Stay close. There are lots of twists and turns even I haven’t visited. The space was used for storage at one time and shelter by those wishing to escape the bombs during the war.”

“Did the stonemason come down here?” she had asked, wondering if he had entered, got lost, couldn’t find his way out.

“Not that I’m aware. He used the workshop in the grounds with the other craftsmen.”

“Other craftsmen?”

“Those working on the windows. Carpenters. And, two roofers.”

“He was the only stonemason?”

“Sadly yes. Excellent worker. One of the best. So hard to find decent craftsmen like him.”

“Sorry, one more question. Why are we down here?”

“That’s a very good question. You see, I’ve noticed something quite odd. Something that wasn’t there a few days ago. Probably not related, but it’s been playing on my mind.”

The warden set off, his flashlight bouncing off walls casting long shadows across the dry clay floor, picking out the red brickwork of arches as each appeared. Several minutes into their walk the warden stopped, looking round, trying to get his bearings. “This way I think. Fourteen pillars down, remember that. Now, nine to the left. Or, is it right?”

She remembered feeling nervous. Behind her lay an eerie ebony void. Without a torch a person could so easily get lost. She had moved closer to the warden, not wanting to leave him out of her sight, praying the batteries in his flashlight would last their journey into this unfamiliar underworld. The warden had shone a light on a large mound of earth. “Here we are. What do you make of this?”

She had looked, not sure what she was supposed to make of it, disappointed she had come all this way for earth. She remembered saying it was just earth.

“Not just any earth. It hasn’t come from the cathedral. Look at the floor we’re standing on. Why would a mound of fresh earth be here? You can smell how damp it is.”

She remembered the shudder she felt down her spine. And, that unmistakable smell of wet earth. She remembered asking him whether he was sure it wasn't from the cathedral. He had shaken his head. "And, here’s the strange thing. There’s bones. See, there’s one sticking out."

Waverly didn’t want to look. The last thing she wanted to see was bones in a pile of mysterious earth underneath a cathedral, where no one would find her if she got lost. In her desire to leave the void she hadn't asked him any further questions, too fazed by what she had just experienced. She remembered standing outside the cathedral, lungs breathing in fresh air, clean air, face feeling the sun once more, not wanting to venture into that unnerving underworld ever again.

Wynonna was calling from the kitchen. “Do you want me to make lunch? I bought a selection of pizzas. Got vegan. Does your friend want one?”

“I’ll ask. We can take a walk later if you like.”

Waverly opened the bedroom door. Nicole was sprawled out on her front, on top of the duvet, completely naked. _God, she’s beautiful,_ she thought, not wanting to wake her, her eyes taking in all of her form. She could spend eternity looking at her body, Nicole’s voice jolting her out of her reverie. “I’m not eye candy. Meat feast if you’re sister is asking.”

“I…can you stop doing this? Whatever it is you’re doing to me, can you stop?”

Nicole turned over, bringing her hands up behind her head, crossing her legs, her voice purring the words. “Moi. Je ne fais rien.”

“Oh fuck. Seriously, stop it,” Waverly replied, her eyes remaining on Nicole’s toned form, her cheeks contradicting any hint of annoyance in her voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moi. Je ne fait rien = Me. I'm not doing anything.
> 
> There are rumours of tunnels leading from underneath the cathedral, possibly created when it was a monastic abbey prior to its dissolution by Henry VIII in 1539. Given how old the cathedral is and its size it would not surprise me if there was a lot more going on underground than meets the eye...! 
> 
> Oh, and there's something in the following video that blew my mind, to do with symbolism...that's all I'm saying...!
> 
> [Check out the cathedral in this short video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OkeXdK3LW1c)


	8. Hidden Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What secrets does the cathedral hold...

Holliday sat at his desk in the police station pouring over the files on the warden’s murder. A small team had been assigned to the case. Small, as in two inexperienced officers, both already busy with other duties, their assistance more a hindrance than a help. He put it down to lack of resources in a regional city, but was beginning to suspect those in charge would rather this case was buried along with what remained of the warden.

He read through his notes, taking stock of where he was in the investigation. There was no sign of a struggle, no marks on the body other than the clean cut applied to the lower half. No trails or splatters of blood, indicating the body had not been dragged, or killed in the room.

Given where and how the body was found, he suspected more than one person had been involved in a carefully coordinated operation. The piece of paper in the warden’s mouth, containing nothing more than a handwritten letter G, had been placed after death, also suggesting whoever carried out this act had enough time to consider their actions. Then there was the whole body on display thing that did not sit well with him. A message to others. A warning, perhaps. For whom was the message intended? For whom was this a warning?

The warden’s background revealed nothing unusual. Single, mid-fifties, religious, had worked at the cathedral for over twenty years. Respected, well-liked, amateur archaeologist, cricket lover. No criminal record, no speeding fines. No debts. No gambling, drug, or alcohol issues. An all-round good egg as the British would say. If anything, he was too good, but what was the comparison? His seemingly spotless life compared to whoever had severed his body in two. Most would happily sit next to the warden at a cricket match. The murderer, or murderers, not so much. Then again, how could one tell?

Finally, there was the writing on the wall. A key supposedly in need of being returned. What key? And, why should that be the message? Almost childish in its revelation. More literary than literal he believed. On initial viewing, he assumed it was tied to the actual murder, and yet, on learning the words were written not in the warden’s blood, Holliday suspected they may have been left before the warden had been strung up. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. That the warden may have stumbled across the words, prompting him to act in a way that could have led to his eventual murder. One that left the top half of his naked body hanging from the ceiling.

\+ + + +

Waverly stared at her computer screen. The naked image of Nicole continued to distract her, pulling her from getting the first draft of a longer story together. There were too many threads needing to be pulled. Her editor was looking for her contribution, anything so long as she could run it on the front page. This was big news for the town and she didn’t want to miss an opportunity to showcase the important work their local newspaper was doing in keeping the community informed.

Compiling a shorter piece than she would have liked, Waverly hit the send button, hoping her email and attachment would be sufficient. The note to her editor mentioned she would need more time to concentrate on writing a longer piece, her editor replying a few minutes later telling her excellent job on reporting the warden’s death and to continue following the mysterious events at the cathedral. Even her editor was growing curious, the story too intriguing to pass up.

“Pizzas are burnt,” Wynonna called from the kitchen, her cooking skills needing more work. “I can take the worst bits off.”

Waverly sat playing with one slice, removing a hardened piece of vegetable from the top, turning it in her hand in an attempt to identify what it once was.

“How’s your story going?” Wynonna asked, removing charred pineapple from hers. “Thought people only died of boredom in this godforsaken place rather than murder.”

“That’s the thing,” Waverly replied. “Most did until yesterday. Something’s changed, I can feel it. Like that creepy feeling you get in a horror movie.”

“You had one of your spooky dreams again?”

“Not lately. Surprised I haven’t, given all that’s going on. Need to get my car from the pub. Wondering if Chrissy’s dad is around to help.”

“How is old Nedley? Still at the police station?”

“Due for retirement soon. Chrissy says he won’t know what to do with himself once he stops working.”

“Give my regards when you see him. Say Wyn’s a big star now. He’ll chuckle at that.”

There was a heavy thud on the door, the sisters staring at each other. Rosita stood on the doorstep, a small duffel bag in her hand. “Is that all N’s stuff?” Waverly asked.

“Is she here? I’ve a message from Auntie.”

“Upstairs. I can wake her if you like.”

Rosita stepped inside, following Waverly to the kitchen. Wynonna was still deciding whether to eat the last of her pizza, tapping an overly-crisp crust against the side of her plate. She looked up as Rosita entered, Waverly introducing her new acquaintance, Rosita spying the burnt pizza. “Have you eaten?” Waverly asked. “I can make you something.”

“Most kind. So, N’s made it to your bed already.”

“No, I…she’s…”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Wynonna interrupted. “So, what do you do?”

“Kill bad guys. You?”

“Err, okay. Actor. You may have seen me in Death by a Thousand Cuts.”

“Can’t say I have. Rarely watch that moving box contraption.”

“Surely you go to the cinema?”

“Too busy defending Earth from demons.”

Waverly could see Wynonna struggling with her new friend. “Ros, have N’s pizza. I’ll make her another.”

“She can share it with me,” Nicole’s voice echoing from the hallway.

“Afternoon N,” Rosita replied. “Better get in here quick or it’ll be all gone. Got a message for you.”

Nicole entered, Waverly gasping, Wynonna unable to take her eyes off her. “No, no, no. Clothes on now. What did I say?”

Nicole shrugged, leaving the kitchen, the sound of footsteps on the stairs, returning almost immediately. She sat at the table with the others, everyone staring at her. “What? I’m dressed.”

Pizza eaten, Auntie’s message delivered, Rosita left, Wynonna wondering who her sister’s strange new friends were. Nicole returned to the bedroom, Waverly suggesting to Wynonna they take a walk to the pub. Wynonna was unusually quiet, occasionally looking over. Waverly knew she was dying to ask who they were. “Okay, okay, my new friends are a little on the weird side, I’ll grant you that.”

“A little. Both on the spectrum would be my guess. How can they be that good looking and that odd?”

“I know. I mean N doesn’t even work out.”

“Of course she does. With a body like that. Did you see her abs? And, Rosita. They’re Hollywood gorgeous. Appalling dress sense mind.”

“Tell me about it. N’s clothes look like she shops at an army surplus store. I think her shirt is silk though.”

“Waves, I know this N person saved your life, but are you sure you can trust them?”

“Absolutely. They’re harmless, unless you’re a mossback.”

“A what back? Okay, just a little concerned you’ve caught the crazy from them.”

“Dead people who come back to life. Smell of damp earth.”

“Yep, you’ve definitely caught the crazy. I so need a drink.”

They headed to Ye Olde Fighting Cocks tavern close to the cathedral, downing several wines, Wynonna signing an autograph for someone, posing for a photo with another. Waverly was immensely proud of her, knowing she didn’t have the courage her sister had to leave their sleepy city, head abroad, work hard at her chosen career. Wynonna had struggled to get parts, moving to Los Angeles three years prior, taking her chances. Defeated, ready to come home, her agent managed to get her an audition for a part in an action thriller starring Matt Damon. It was a start, got her recognised, bigger roles followed, eventually winning her the lead role in her own film. 

The house was quiet when they returned. Wynonna spent the evening answering messages, catching up on Twitter, confirming arrangements for the next few days. Waverly sat in front of her computer once more, rereading her notes, trying to piece together the information, trying to figure out whether she missed something. The warden loved his job, which was abundantly clear to Waverly in the short time she spent with him, telling her how proud he was being a part of such a majestic building, dripping in so much history. A keen amateur archaeologist, lover of all the facts and stories relating to the church, he could have spent hours talking to her, Waverly cutting short her visit after their trip below ground. 

As he walked her to the entrance, she could tell he was still desperate for someone to whom he could impart his knowledge, wanting her to delight as much as he did in the church’s extremely long past. “They say there’s a dark secret to this place,” the warden informed. “Shouldn’t be surprised, given how old it is. A cup, well a crucible really, bronze, brought back by the Crusaders. You know, the Knights Templar. Like the grail supposedly buried in the Rosslyn Chapel. Except, this one is cursed. Fascinating. Probably a rumour, passing into myth. Although, given recent events…”

Waverly didn’t press for more information, not wanting to hang around, definitely not wanting to return anywhere that might give her more spine-chilling experiences. She thanked the warden, he offering to provide any further information should she require. “Come back anytime. My door’s always open,” he had said, still smiling as she hurried outside.

Deep in thought, Waverly heard someone on the stairs, praying if it was Nicole she still had her clothes on. Although, naked Nicole was definitely worth another peek. She looked at the time. A little after ten. Time for her to turn in. Wynonna had gone to bed hours ago. Jet lag, a little too much wine, along with a full schedule of interviews and TV appearances over the next week meant she needed to get as much rest as she could. Nicole sat on the couch watching Waverly pretend to tidy up. “You really don’t have to do that. Ros and I aren’t the tidiest.”

“I saw. Will you be okay down here?”

“More comfortable in your bed.”

“We’ve talked about that. Really isn’t going to happen.”

“Really is,” Nicole muttered under her breath. “Call me if you get lonely in the night.”

“Really won’t,” Waverly replied, feigning a smile. “See you in the morning.”

“Sweet dreams,” Nicole replied, winking.

Waverly crawled into bed, her hand reaching over to where Nicole had been. This was all new to her. Someone like N was new to her. Her romantic interests, up to this point, had been one mismatch after another. Ever the optimist, yet far too cautious when it came to sexual attraction, she had resigned herself to being the one who would forever not be lucky in love. 

Another reporter at the Mercury was vaguely interested. James Hardy. A few lacklustre dates. No chemistry, he too small-town for her. And, then there was her good-looking female editor. Mid-thirties, cool, sophisticated, ambitious, everything she wanted to be, if only she was brave enough. She knew in her heart she was attracted to those who showed themselves to be fearless. Perhaps that was why this N appealed, although hypnotic eyes certainly had an appeal too. And, super powers were a bonus. She giggled to herself as she slipped into bed, wondering how one might list those qualities on a dating website. Good sense of humour, check, able to kill dead people with bare hands, check, nope uncheck. That was a little too weird. Fabulously toned body, checkmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ye Olde Fighting Cocks pub dates back to the 8th Century. St Albans Cathedral is across the road with tunnels stretching from the pub's beer cellar to the cathedral, apparently used by monks when the cathedral was a monastary. Cock fighting took place in the main bar in the late 19th/early 20th centuries, hence the name of the pub. 
> 
> Rosslyn Chapel in Scotland has long been linked to the Holy Grail, supposedly found by the Knights Templar during the Crusades. A myth persists to this day that the Grail is buried beneath the chapel. The Knights Templar were an elite fighting force, highly trained, well-equipped and highly motivated, forbidden from retreating in battle, unless outnumbered three to one, and even then only by order of their commander, or if the Templar flag went down.
> 
> It is rumoured the knights found treasure beneath the ruins of Solomon’s Temple in Jerusalem, including the fabled Holy Grail, the Turin Shroud, the head of St. John the Baptist, the Spear of Destiny, the embalmed head of Jesus Christ and the location of the last resting place of the Ark of the Covenant, believed to be buried somewhere in modern-day Ethiopia. The Templars were ousted from Jerusalem at the end of the 12th Century, and many believe they took whatever they found in Jerusalem with them, hiding the treasure of Solomon’s Temple in their headquarters in Paris. Most of these treasures, if the Templars ever had them, vanished when their order was brutally disbanded in 1307.


	9. In Tents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole invites Waverly to her inner sanctum...

Her eyes closed, hoping sleep would come quickly, knowing it usually took ages to switch off to the world. Not this night, sleep enveloping her, entering the dream world before she could think another thought. There she stood, in an exquisite garden, her bare feet brushing softly against lush green grass, the scent of flowers intoxicating, radiantly beautiful butterflies dancing before her, wings of turquoise and emerald green. Others of the deepest crimson hue. A sound of water dancing over pebbles as her legs carried her towards a billowing white tent, a warm breeze caressing her body as she moved. A dream, but not a dream. Too vivid, too real. That was it. She was actually there, in whatever place this was, in whatever moment this was.

Her hand reached out, pulling back the entrance, her eyes falling upon the person waiting for her. “I wondered how long it would take for you to get here.”

“How? How am I dreaming this?”

“Isn't all life a dream? Come, lie with me. Let me show you who I really am.”

“I can’t. I want to…”

“I scare you. You are safe. I will guide you.”

She moved closer, her body willing, her mind hesitant. “N, I haven't...not with. I want to resist, but I’m drawn to you. Your eyes pull me in, make me want to do things...”

“These eyes,” Nicole replied, their colour changing to a luminous amber.

Waverly knelt beside her, forcing her own eyes to close, knowing if she continued to look into Nicole’s mesmerising eyes she would succumb to her own impulses. “Why do you consume me?” she asked.

“I'll go slow, I promise. We have all the time in this world. We have eternity."

"N, I'm not ready. My god, your body. And, your eyes. I can’t look at them."

Waverly felt her own body shaking, wanting to, not wanting to, torn between burning bodily desire and her mind overthinking everything. "I so could, but I hardly know you. N, I've only known you a day and I'm here with you, about to..."

"I could be with you in your waking dreams too, if you so wish."

"Oh God, I wish. More than anything, but I can't. Please, I must go."

"I'll be here if you change your mind," Nicole said, patting the space beside her, that now familiar smirk appearing.

Waverly got up, looking behind as she left the tent, knowing she would be back.

Waverly’s phone buzzed. Holliday wanted her to meet him at the cathedral to view the missing stonemason footage with him. She looked at the time. 7am. _Definitely a workaholic,_ she thought, as she grabbed a towel on route to the bathroom. Heading downstairs, she glanced in on Nicole. Fast asleep, snoring, that erotic dreamlike moment still as fresh, a shiver running through her body. 

She closed the door to the lounge, entering the kitchen, flicking the switch on the kettle, pulling out a pot to make porridge. Stirring the stodgy grey mixture her mind drifted to the events of the past few days, sifting through the puzzle pieces she had so far, more and more questions formulating. 

One kept rising to the surface. One for which she wanted an answer, one she needed an answer. What were those mossbacks after? Their persistent pursuit along the canal made real her deepest fear, one that started when she was young and had remained with her ever since. Show her a spider she was fine, clowns to her were cute and she could never imagine ever being scared of a bee, or a wasp. Yet, someone following her, someone chasing after her, was the very stuff of her nightmares. As a child she would wake the whole house with her screams, terrified of being taken. Her parents understood. So did Wynonna.

Therapy helped. The nightmares eased, never entirely disappearing. She found yoga, then meditation, finally self-defence. All useful, unless she was stressed. Then the bad dreams would start again, waking in a cold sweat, her heart beating through her chest. 

The smell of burning brought her back into the kitchen, pulling the pot away from the heat, looking at the smoking lump, of what would have been her breakfast, stuck to the bottom. The sound of footsteps on the stairs told her Wynonna was up. “You’re not going to eat that are you? You're as bad a cook as me.”

“Obviously not. Got distracted. What are your plans today?”

“Heading to London. Mucho interviews and a media party in some swanky hotel. Why don’t you come with me?”

“Can’t. Chasing that story. It’s all a bit of a jumble right now. I’ve too many threads. Too many things to figure out.”

Wynonna inserted a piece of bread into the toaster, sitting at the breakfast bar as Waverly pushed a mug of black coffee in her direction. “Waves, don’t make this story personal. People go missing all the time. Admittedly, not as many end up cut in half.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Of course. But, I can’t live my life in the past. Willa’s gone. We’re here. She lives through us.”

Waverly placed a new pot on the stove to make more porridge. “I know. That’s what mum always says. Don’t you ever wonder what happened to her? Why she disappeared? How?”

“Went to therapy remember. Of course I want to know. It’s just…Waves, if I could bring her back. If I could find her.”

“It’s always at the back of my head. So many unanswered questions.”

“Smells good,” Nicole interrupted. “Why am I so hungry?”

Waverly shot her a look. “Probably Nan’s vodka.”

“Right. Best lay off that stuff.”

Waverly placed a bowl of porridge in front of her guest. “DCI Holliday wants to meet me at the cathedral. Can you come with?”

“I have an errand for Auntie.”

“Yes, or no. Simple question. Simple answer.”

“No. Unless you can wait till this afternoon.”

“Fine, I’ll go alone, unprotected, with mossy backed people after me.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll come. But, if the entire world crashes and burns because I didn’t do what Auntie asked, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

“Thank you. We haven’t long. Holliday is meeting the Dean 8am sharp.”

Wynonna looked at the pair, no longer able to follow anything they were saying. “Did you put something in my coffee this morning?”

“Long story. I’ll fill you in when you get back from London. What time’s your car coming?”

“Eleven, I think. Are you sure you won’t come with me? It’ll be fun.”

“Next time. Promise.”

The air that morning was fresh as the pair stepped outside. Blue skies, sunshine, spring flowers beginning to push through the ground. An ordinary day, like any other. They walked towards the cathedral. “I don’t know how you did it,” Waverly said, “but I’m not going back in that tent. Do you hear me?”

Nicole continued walking without glancing at her companion. “Okay. Tents were too intense for you. In tents. Intense.”

“Ha ha, I get it. You’re not funny. Let me say this now, you’re a god, who will live forever and will watch me die. So, it’s not going to happen. I’m telling you that now.”

“Demigod. We don’t live forever.”

“Fine. Details. And, speaking of details who exactly is your father?”

“Eros.”

Waverly stopped, attempting to process what she had just learnt. “Your father is the god of love?” Nicole nodded, now several paces ahead, Waverly picking up her pace to catch up. “N, stop. You are the daughter of Eros. Is that why I’m feeling the way I do around you?”

Nicole shook her head this time, eyeing up Waverly. “Nope. You fancy me.” 

“I really don’t. I hardly know you. Plus, you’re not my type. So, not my type. If I had a type, you would not be it.”

“That’s not what you said last night. Oh N, you are so beautiful, your eyes. I desire you. More than anyone. Me thinks you might like my super-sexy body just a smidge.”

“Seriously, fuck off. I didn’t say that. I may have said that. Okay, if I said that, I didn’t mean to say…God, seriously, fuck off.”

Nicole grinned. “Aw…look, your cheeks match the colour of my hair. That’s so cute.”

She easily dodged Waverly’s fist, dancing off towards the cathedral, knowing she shouldn’t tease, enjoying the effect she was having. She too was drawn towards the person currently trying to thump her.

Holliday was waiting for them outside the cathedral. The three entered, Nicole suddenly becoming more alert, Waverly glancing over as she sniffed the air. The Dean led them to his room, sitting at his desk, typing something on a keyboard. “Ah, here it is. I’ve been through it myself. There’s only one occasion the stonemason is caught on our cameras. Shame we don’t have any inside the church.”

“Can you zoom in,” Holliday asked, curious as to what the stonemason had in his hand. “There. Hold that frame.”

The Dean paused the footage allowing Holliday to study the image. Grainy, but clear enough to show a drawing. Holliday studied it carefully. “Looks like your mason was interested in stairs.”

Nicole had been gazing out the window into the grounds, not bothering to look at the footage. The disappearance of the stonemason was of little concern to her, or the murder of the warden for that matter. Her mind elsewhere. The moment a staircase was mentioned her attention was brought back into the room. “Where, show me,” she said, moving Waverly to one side, earning a huff. “Can you make it bigger?”

“I can try,” the Dean replied. “There, is that any better? Can’t say I’ve seen that style anywhere in the cathedral. It reminds me of the one in the Loretto Chapel. How curious.”

“It’s an impossible staircase,” Nicole muttered, heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Waverly called out, seeing her disappear through the opening. By the time she reached the corridor Nicole was nowhere to be seen. She called her number, Nicole’s ringtone echoing somewhere inside the church. “Where are you? And, seriously you have Star Wars as your ringtone.”

“Looking for their way in.”

“What way in? N, what’s going on?”

“When you were here, did you see any symbols?”

“Loads. Warden pointed out a few. Why?”

“Did any look like a staircase? Or, a ladder perhaps. It’s got to be here, it’s got to be.”

“N, where are you?”

“At the shrine. I can smell them. They’ve been here.”

“Who. Who’s been here?”

“Mossbacks.”

“They were inside the church the day I returned to see the warden. At the back. The two you killed.”

“Knew it. Their stench is all over this area. Someone has allowed them to enter. They shouldn’t be able to set foot inside here, unless…”

“That’s what I thought. How can dead men be here? Mind you, at the time I didn’t know they were dead. Really creepy looking. Gave me a sick feeling first time I saw them.”

Nicole’s phone went silent. A moment later she was standing behind Waverly making her jump. “Fuck, don’t do that. What’s that look on your face for?”

“So, I’m going to tell you something, which I probably should have mentioned sooner. You may need to sit down for this.”

“What? Tell me what?”

“I know why they were following you.”

“And…”

“You shouldn’t be able to see them.”

“OK. But, I did. In the car park. By the canal. Their hearts. I saw them lying on the ground dead.”

“I know. Why do you think I came to your rescue? I smelt them as they chased after you. Saw you talking to them. They knew you were different.”

“Hold it, hold it. Are you saying I see dead people? Like that Sixth Sense film with that little kid.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. And, yes you see dead people. A specific kind of dead person.”


	10. Just Explain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly is struggling to understand what's going on...

Waverly slumped in a pew, staring at the floor. “I write stories about missing puppies and arguing neighbours. I follow one missing person story and now dead people, who I shouldn’t be able to see, are chasing me.”

Nicole knelt before her. “Hey, it’s okay. Somehow you were meant to be covering this. You’ve got me. Plus the others. We’ll protect you.”

Waverly wanted to hug her, her world changing faster than she was able to keep up. “I’m seriously scared right now. Do you think they killed the warden?”

“Not sure,” Nicole replied, surveying where they were.

Waverly rubbed her eyes, head hurting, more questions entering her already confused mind. “But Nan saw the hearts. So she’s different too?”

“Saved by a demigod. Kind of gives you a bit extra.”

“I need a drink. What time is it?”

“Now you’re talking.”

Nicole took her hand, leading them back towards the Dean’s office, Holliday looking up as they entered. He smiled, seeing them holding hands, Waverly immediately feeling uncomfortable, dropping Nicole’s, moving towards the computer. The Dean was showing him footage from the night of his surveillance. Around the time he saw the man leave by the side door. The Dean replayed the clip over and over, no time jumps in the footage, no door opening. Whatever Holliday saw, it had not been picked up on the outside camera.

The three walked to the exit, Waverly remembering her car needed to be rescued, pulling out her phone, ringing Chrissy. “Hi, is your dad free later? Car trouble again.”

“Sure. Give him a call. Is Wyn in town? Maisie said she saw her at the Cocks yesterday. You should have called me. Dying to ask her about LA.”

“Sorry, so much going on right now, completely forgot. She’ll be back late this evening. Probably too tired to go out. I’ll let you know when we’re next heading somewhere.”

Waverly called Nedley, pleased to hear his voice, he gladly offering to come help with her car. He picked the pair up from the house, Nicole sitting in the back gazing out the window. Nedley hooked up his battery to Waverly’s offering to buy them a drink in the pub while they waited. He returned with their order, handing over the triple whiskey to Nicole with a fatherly look that said he didn’t approve of heavy drinkers. She raised her glass about to repeat her drinking salute spotting Waverly shaking her head, Nicole lowering her glass to her lips. Waverly thanked Nedley for the drinks, taking a sip of her soda water, knowing she would be driving. “Any more news on the warden?”

“Autopsy said the cut to his body was with some sort of metal blade. A katana most likely, but don’t quote me on that. Still no identity for the blood on the wall. All really odd. And, why a G?”

“A code, perhaps,” Waverly replied.

Nicole had that look on her face. She eyed Nedley, Waverly realising she didn’t want to say anything in front of him. Nedley tried Waverly’s car. It started, getting out, handing her the keys. She waited until his car pulled out of the car park. “Spill. What do you know about that letter?”

“It’s not a G.”

Waverly shook her head. Her world no longer operated to the norms on which she had come to rely. Up was now down, dead people were not staying dead and a letter was no longer a letter. “I can’t do this anymore. That’s it. N, this is nuts. None of this makes any sense. It’s like a cryptic crossword.”

“This whiskey is rather good. Must get a bottle. Annoyed. Vexed. Peeved. I rather like peeved.”

Waverly let out a cry in frustration. “What? Seriously, what?”

“Cross words. Words that mean you’re cross.”

Waverly glared. “Tell me I’m not going mad.”

“You’re going mad. Thoroughly recommend it. Do you have any money on you?”

“Why? How can going mad be good?”

“More whiskey. Don’t carry money on me. You need to adjust your vision about this world.”

“I’m not paying for your habit. My vision…my vision. A G is a G. How can it not be a G? Tell me that.”

“What are letters? They are mere symbols. A visual representation, carrying a shared meaning allowing us to communicate with each other. They can carry a deeper meaning too, if you look beneath the surface.”

“It’s me who’ll be drinking whiskey if you don’t stop being cryptic. Fine, what meaning does a G carry that I apparently can’t see?”

“Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?”

“Of course I do, I’m a journalist, for heaven’s sake,” Waverly snapped, beyond peeved, pulling the items roughly from her bag, thrusting them at Nicole. “Now what?”

“Write the capital form of G.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Waverly said, doing as Nicole instructed. “There, happy.”

“Now, write it without curves. Make each line of the letter angular.”

“Wait, you’re saying it’s a pattern. Oh, fuck…it’s.”

Nicole nodded. “It’s a staircase. Your eyes see only the surface meaning. But, there’s a hidden world beneath and within. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.”

“That’s…that’s actually really clever. Okay, I’ll buy you one more drink for that.”

“Can you make it a triple? I have rather a peeved throat from explaining this to you.”

Waverly laughed. “You’re way too cute…cheeky, I meant cheeky for your own good N.”

Another round of drinks, the pair set off for Auntie’s boat. They could smell the delicious aroma of home baking as they entered, Auntie in the process of making another cake. N removed her knives, placing them in Auntie’s bedroom, explaining to Waverly it was a sign of respect.

Cups of tea, slices of cake, Auntie listened to the new information, a look of concern on her face. “It would make sense. The level of activity in recent days. But, why now? We’ve kept a watch on the cathedral, there is no way this could be happening.”

“But, it is,” Nicole replied. “Someone is helping them. Someone with old knowledge.”

“Someone on the inside?” Waverly asked, Nicole nodding. “Could you tell if someone is doing whatever it is they’re doing?”

Nicole shook her head. “Not as easy as smelling mossbacks. If a mortal has turned, it’s almost impossible unless caught. X will need to put another lock on the entrance, just to be on the safe side.”

“Sorry, can someone please explain? I have no idea what’s going on.”

“I’ll try,” Nicole replied, holding her right hand out flat, palm up, taking Waverly’s hand, placing it face down on top. “This is how you see the world. You are the top hand. Touching mine, not seeing my world under yours, believing there’s only one hand.”

“Okay. I follow.”

Nicole threaded her fingers through Waverly’s. “And, now our worlds are together. Yours in mine, mine in yours.”

“Is that how I could see those men?”

“Your world has been entwined. Once you see, you cannot unsee. Once you know, you cannot unknow. Well, okay that’s not strictly true, but I’ll pass on that for now.”

“So, your world and my world are linked. And, the cathedral has something to do with it.”

Nicole nodded. “There is something buried beneath the cathedral, a secret chamber, once guarded by the monks when it was an abbey.”

“The warden mentioned it,” Waverly interrupted. “A cup. No, a crucible. Bronze I think he said.”

Nicole looked at Auntie, returning her gaze to Waverly. “You’ve heard of it. Okay, makes it a little easier to explain. The crucible is no ordinary vessel. It holds captive sixty nine of the most feared demons to exist here on Earth.”

Waverly’s eyebrows met, one corner of her mouth lifting, her grip tightening on Nicole’s hand. “How can a cup…what sort of cup? A big cup.”

Nicole smiled. “No. Small. You could hold it in your hand. It’s cursed. Or, as we call it old knowledge. The physical cup isn’t really all that important. It’s merely a portal, a gateway to where the demons are imprisoned.”

Waverly’s mouth opened slightly. “Do you think someone’s found the cup?”

Nicole shrugged. “The cup itself isn’t the problem. It’s the key.”

Waverly was now completely lost. “But, what’s a key got to do with a cup? Unless it’s in a box that need’s opening.”

“Kind of. The key is not a key.”

Waverly separated their hands. “Nope. I’m lost. How can a key not be a key?”

“Clavicula Salomonis Regis. The Lesser Key of King Solomon.”

“What? Just tell me so I’ll understand.”

“It’s a book. A grimoire. Magic spells with the power to free those imprisoned in the cup.”

“Okay, okay. I understand books. So, if someone had this key book they could unlock the demons?”

Nicole nodded, lowering her head. “So, what I’m about to tell you might freak you out.”

Waverly laughed, partly as a nervous release. “As if everything you’ve told me already is perfectly normal. Fine, tell me.”

Nicole paused, looking once more to Auntie who nodded. “X is one of the demons who should have been imprisoned within the cup.”

Waverly gasped. “But…but. No! X is a demon?”

“Repentent. Well, we best be off,” Nicole said, standing, making eyes at Waverly to follow. 

“N, did you get what I asked?”

“Oops, sorry. Got distracted this morning. I can go now if you like. Two dozen eggs and vanilla essence right?”

“Thanks. And, better get more flour. Once X starts on the cake there’s no stopping him. Money’s on the side. You’re good to your old Auntie.”

Waverly stared at Nicole. “So, you claiming the entire world would fall apart if you didn’t do something was in fact a shopping trip.”

“It will be the end of the world if X doesn’t get his sugar fix. Be back shortly.”

Waverly drank the last of her tea, looking at the leaves at the bottom wondering if they too told a story. Auntie removed the cake from the oven, placing it on the counter, turning to see what Waverly was doing. “Penny for them.”

“What? Sorry, it’s just. I’m still trying to get my head round all this. You, N, the others. Everything that’s happening at the cathedral. It’s like I’m back in the canal, sinking, not touching the bottom.”

Auntie sat beside her, placing a hand on her arm. “We are where we are. We’re both here because N saved us. In that moment, the very moment we were about to die, N stepped in and gave us our lives back. But, it comes at a cost to her. It weakens her. Just be grateful you’re here, enjoying the life you so nearly didn’t get to keep.”

“You mean I could have drowned if it weren’t for N. She never said. Why wouldn’t she say that?”

“Because, it’s her choice. One of her strengths is compassion. She cares, too much sometimes. But, it is also her greatest weakness.”

Waverly’s house was quiet when they returned, having detoured to the pub for a liquid dinner at Nicole's insistence. No sign of Wynonna, even her cases had been removed from the hall, although her trainers were still there and a pair of thigh-length boots. Nicole parked herself on the couch, patting the space beside her for Waverly to sit.

“Look, we really need to talk,” Waverly began, sitting on the chair in front of her desk.

“So, talk,” Nicole replied. “I like the sound of your voice.”

Waverly rolled her eyes. “Firstly, you’re drunk. Secondly, we can’t. Ros told me you haven’t committed to anyone since the death of…”

“She had no right to say that. That’s my heart she’s talking about.”

“N, a few days ago I was living an ordinary, mundane, frankly boring existence where the most exciting thing about to happen was my sister coming over from LA.”

“Then you met me.”


	11. Killer Moves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The taste of champagne and cherries...

Waverly paused, knowing what was currently happening in her life was linked to this mysterious stranger, who plucked her from death, made sure she was safe, killed those who came after her. “Then I met you," she replied. "Don’t get me wrong, you fascinate me, but, this is not who I am. I’m not some action hero. I’m Waverly Earp, journalist at the Mercury, who…”

“Who happens to have a crush on a demigod. I know, can’t be helped. I am exceedingly moreish.”

“Will you stop saying that? If you weren’t so arrogant I’d…”

“Go on. I’m intrigued to know what you’d do to me.”

Waverly howled, her right foot lifting slightly, unable to have a serious conversation with the person sitting on her couch. “I’m going to bed. Don’t you dare do that tent thing. I’m warning you.”

“Fine. I won’t do that tent thing.”

Nicole could hear Waverly banging around upstairs, talking to herself, annoyed she could no longer control things. She lay on the couch, arms behind her head, waiting for it to go silent, closing her eyes. Waverly was now in bed, her phone out, checking for messages from Wynonna. None. _Probably busy, or out at a nightclub with the other stars,_ she thought, sending her a message to say she hoped she was having a great time.

Closing her eyes, her mind was still churning. Too sensible to get involved with a heavy-drinking, possibly insane, extremely good looking demigod, she resigned herself to maybe ringing James at the Mercury to see if he was free for a drink. _It’s probably because I haven’t dated in a while,_ she thought. _And, if anyone is on my radar it would have to be my editor._ She wondered if her editor might go for a drink sometime, quickly pushing that thought away, knowing she would never be brave enough to ask.

Music suddenly filled her head, a song she had heard on the radio, a scene emerging, strangers moving past her, some dancing. All gorgeous, dressed in designer clothes, demigods she suspected as she saw eyes glow after taking a sip of something similar to Nan’s vodka. She pushed through the gathering, knowing exactly who was creating this new dream world, spying her sitting in a private booth, several scantily-clad companions on either side, dressed in a black tuxedo, bow tie hanging from a white dress shirt. 

She saw Nicole’s eyes maintaining their gaze as she approached. “You’re very naughty.”

“You said no tents. Is this less intense for you? Would you like a drink? I have chilled champagne.”

“How am I supposed to drink champagne? Nice outfit by the way. Very you.”

“Why thank you, Waverly Earp,” Nicole replied, filling two glasses, handing one to her. “I hope you don’t mind but I chose your outfit for you.”

Waverly looked down at the garment she had on. “Purple’s my favourite colour.”

“I know,” Nicole raised her glass. “To your health. To the gods who made us.”

Waverly took a sip. “I can taste it. I can actually taste it.”

Nicole downed her drink, standing, Waverly taking in her form in an extremely well-fitted suit. “Wow, still an alcoholic, even in my dreams.”

“And, you’re still as alluring in mine,” Nicole replied, placing her empty glass down.

“You mean, you’re having the same dream? Is this how it works?”

“Pretty much. Shall we.” Nicole held out a hand, escorting Waverly back towards the dancefloor. “Haven’t danced in a while, I maybe rusty. You might have to show me how it’s done.”

Waverly felt the tingle through her body as Nicole placed her hands on the small of her back. “I…I’m not that good a dancer. Is it hot in here?”

“You know, I don’t usually bring anyone here. But, you’re different.”

“Oh, my god. Such a cheesy chat up line. Carry on. Can’t wait for your next line.”

“I was going to say your lips are like ripened cherries ready to be tasted.”

“And, I would reply, you’re so not getting my lips. Even if I’m dying for you to kiss me.”

“I can tell. You’ve moved your body closer.”

“I want you to consume me. Why am I saying these things?”

“It’s your subconscious. Your rational mind suppresses your wants and desires in the waking dream. Here, you can let it all hang out. So, may I taste your lips?”

“I want you to, but…”

“Don’t think. Don’t let your rational mind take over. What do you want?”

“I want. I so want…”

\+ + + +

Holliday was beginning to suspect someone close to the cathedral helped in the warden’s murder. The unreliable and missing CCTV footage added to his growing sense of unease. He took a gulp of coffee, now cold, his eyes narrowing as it hit the back of his throat. He stretched, bringing his arms down slowly, moving his right hand across the desk to check his phone for the time. Nearly 10pm. The main lights in his office had been off for some time, a small lamp casting a pale amber glow over the files and notes scattered across the surface. 

He needed more coffee. Nedley’s light was on as he passed his office, he sitting at his desk, a phone pressed to his ear, listening, nodding, tapping his pen repeatedly against a notepad. Deep lines on his forehead suggested whatever he was being told did not sit well with him. The door to his office remained partially open, allowing Holliday to catch some of the conversation. He stopped just beyond the door, out of sight.

“I’m not comfortable with this,” Nedley said to whoever was on the call. “Okay, okay. If you think it’s for the best. I wish you had told me sooner, that’s all.” A pause. Someone presumably giving him more information, or instructions. “I will see to it.”

Holliday heard a chair move, realising Nedley had finished his call. He moved off in the direction of the kitchen, pouring a fresh mug of filter coffee. Nedley entered, surprised Holliday was still at the station. “Another workaholic, and late night coffee drinker.”

“Can’t seem to kick the habit.”

“How’s the warden’s case coming along?” Nedley asked, helping himself to coffee. “Any more leads?”

“A few. Don’t see many ritualistic murders in these parts.”

“You think it was a ritual killing? Makes sense. In the cathedral too. Poor fellow. Such a nice chap.”

“You knew him?”

“Cricket enthusiasts for our sins. We would sometimes sit together at the county ground for a match.”

“And, he wasn’t part of any secret society, or into anything suspicious?”

“Good Lord, no. Kept his private life to himself mind. There was talk he had a young lodger for a while. One doesn’t pry.”

This piece of information had not appeared in the warden’s profile. Holliday made a mental note to check it out, first thing in the morning. Returning to his desk, the mysterious man at the cathedral suddenly sprang to mind. He would swing by on his way back to the hotel. 

Waverly was about to tell Nicole what she really wanted to do in their shared dream when she heard the Star Wars theme playing downstairs. The dream vanished, the taste of champagne still in her mouth. She heard Nicole talking, saying she would be there shortly.

Hopping out of bed, rushing downstairs, she caught Nicole as she was about to leave. “I’m coming with you.”

“Too dangerous. Sexy PJ’s by the way.”

Waverly’s cheeks flushed. “Thanks. I can still help.”

“By taking notes.”

“That’s really fucking rude. I’ve a good mind to…”

“Kiss me. Park that desire until I return. X needs me. Don’t wait up, honey.”

“Seriously, fuck off N. These cherries are mine. And, I am coming with you.”

“Fine. But, may I suggest you put on something a little more street fighter style. Perhaps that low-cut purple dress I picked out for you.”

“Do not go without me. Second thoughts, come upstairs while I change, so I can keep an eye on you.”

Nicole followed Waverly upstairs to her bedroom, Waverly making her sit on the edge of the bed with her eyes closed. Nicole obeyed, maintaining a straight face, Waverly unaware Nicole could still see everything she was doing in her mind’s eye, given the connection they now shared. Dressed, ready for action, the pair headed towards the cathedral.

Xavier was waiting outside as they approached. Rosita and Robin play fighting to amuse themselves, Xavier snapping at them to keep the noise down. He was in no mood for their childish games, knowing he had an important job to do that night. He was not best pleased to see Waverly, making it known to Nicole that bringing her to the cathedral was not a sensible move. Nicole apologised, promising it would be the only time, Waverly feeling decidedly put out, her movements being discussed without her input. She huffed loudly to let everyone know she was there, Nicole turning, giving her a look to say she had better be quiet or she would be taken straight back to the house.

Nicole whistled to the others to keep a lookout for trouble, moving with Xavier towards the main cathedral door. Waverly watched as he pulled something from his overcoat, placing it against the wood. Nicole stopped him, sniffing the air, looking round. “Someone’s here, watching us.”

“Mossbacks?” Waverly whispered, earning a glare from Xavier. “Fine, I’ll be quiet.”

“Mortal. There. In that car. Robin, go have fun. Ros, back up.”

“Right oh, boss,” Robin replied, heading off in the direction of Holliday’s car. “Ros, we’ll do the old one-two on him.”

Rosita clapped her hands. “I so love our job. No howling like a wolf this time. Way too silly.”

The pair danced off to distract the detective, Xavier resuming his work. The watch face glowed as he placed it against the door once more, commencing the incantation. A circle appeared on the door, glowing red, the unmistakable smell of burning wood filling Waverly’s nostrils. She desperately wanted to know what was happening, craning her neck to see over Xavier’s shoulder, more and more questions racing through her mind. She heard a car alarm sound, Robin obviously doing something to Holliday’s car, then a loud thud, glimpsing over to see Rosita jumping on the roof of the car. She watched as Holliday leapt out, the pair disappearing before he could see them. 

That’s when their eyes met, he recognising Waverly and her tall friend, about to walk towards them when Robin and Rosita bounced his car. He turned, distracted once more, Nicole realising they needed to leave. She grabbed Waverly’s hand pulling her towards the side of the cathedral, into the shadows. Xavier was left to finish what he was doing, unconcerned if anyone was watching him, his work too important to be interrupted. 

He heard Waverly’s scream, a scuffle, Nicole calling out for his help. Almost done, a few more lines of the incantation and he would be free to go to their aid. The light on his watch faded, replacing it in his pocket, pulling out his knives, ready to do battle. As he rounded the corner he saw Nicole on the ground, holding her side, Waverly on her knees, cradling her head in her arms.

She’s hurt. They came out of nowhere.”

“Let me see. Waverly, you need to give me room.”

“She tried to protect me. They were after me. Why?”

“Did you see what hit her?”

“I think it was a knife. No sound, just a flash of light. I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”

“I’m okay,” Nicole muttered, gripping her side, her body doubling over as the pain hit her. “It’s okay. I can stand. We need to get her away from here. It’s not safe.”

“I told you not to bring her,” Xavier hissed, placing his hands under Nicole’s shoulders, pulling her up.

Nicole cried out in pain. “It’s bad. Get me to the house.”


	12. Losing Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole needs old knowledge to help her fight the curse...

Nicole’s body went limp, Xavier hoisting her in his arms, Waverly watching as everything unravelled before her eyes. This was all her fault, she realised. _If I'd stayed home,_ she thought, _she would not have been injured._ Rosita and Robin approached, seeing Nicole in Xavier's arms, the pair running off towards the graveyard to get whoever had done this to her, avenge their friend. 

They laid Nicole on Waverly’s couch, her breathing becoming shallower, her hand gripping her side, agony written across her face. Waverly stood watching. “What do we do? X, what do we do?”

“She needs Nan. I can carry her, but she’s in a bad way.”

“My car. Will she be OK? She’s a demigod right. Demigods don’t die.”

Xavier stared at her. “Waverly, she gave part of her life force to save you. She hasn’t had time to recover fully. That’s why she’s like this. It’ll be touch and go.”

“No, she has to. Can you lift her to my car? Hurry, please.”

“Waverly, you must prepare yourself. If this is the will of the gods then N will have no choice but to accept her fate.”

Waverly felt the tears coming. “She’s not going to die. She can’t.”

Xavier lifted Nicole from the couch, the cry she let out telling them she was in a lot of pain. She tried to mouth something, her head falling back. The streets were quiet as they sped through the city out towards the countryside. Xavier pointed out the turns as they approached, Waverly having a vague memory of what the farmhouse looked like. As they reached the final corner, she spotted the buildings, hoping they were in time, hoping Nicole would survive.

Nicole’s breathing had been shallow for most of the journey, her eyes remaining closed, her lips moving without saying anything, repeating something over and over.

“X, what’s she saying? She’s trying to say something.”

“It’s her final prayer. I taught her for when the time comes. She knows she’s near the end.”

“No,” Waverly shouted, putting her foot on the accelerator. “She’s going to live.”

Nan was waiting by the door as the car pulled up. They extracted Nicole from the back seat, gasping, her eyes opening wide. _She’s still with us,_ Waverly thought, as they carried her inside and up the stairs to the bedroom where they had spent their first night together. Nan switched on the light, gently unbuttoning Nicole’s leather waistcoat, revealing a bloodstained shirt. Lifting it, the three looked at the wound. Large black veins spreading out from a puncture hole in her side.

“That’s old magic,” Nan observed, shaking her head. “I can perform an anti-curse, but she’s weak.”

“Whatever you can do, it will be enough,” Xavier replied. “Waverly we need to let Nan do her work. Come, let’s go to the kitchen.”

“I’m staying. I’m not leaving her.”

“This is not for your eyes,” Xavier insisted. “Nan needs to work alone.”

The last image Waverly had of Nicole was of her eyes rolling, crying out as Nan began her work. Waverly could hear the screams as she sat at the kitchen table, unable to think, unable to touch the tea Xavier had made for her.

“Nan is the most experienced in this,” Xavier explained, helping himself to biscuits from a jar. “If anyone can save her it’s Nan.”

“I don’t understand. How can a demigod die?”

“Part human remember. If the human part is damaged beyond repair they have no choice but to give up this life, return to the higher realm.”

“I can’t lose her. I don’t know why. But, she’s a part of my life now. I don’t know what I’ll do if she isn’t in it anymore.”

“This is not in your control. This is in the hands of the gods. Only they can decide this matter.”

Nan entered the kitchen, looking drained, pouring herself a cup of tea, slumping in a seat. “She’s sleeping. The next few hours will be critical, but I think she’ll survive. She was lucky.”

Waverly couldn’t hold back any longer, the damn breaking on her emotions, apologising, wiping her running nose on her sleeve until Nan placed a box of tissues beside her cup. “There, my child. Do not worry. All’s well. You can go up if you like, but leave her sleep.”

Waverly pulled a handful of tissues from the box, standing, the situation getting the better of her, flinging her arms round Nan’s neck, hugging her. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Waverly entered the bedroom, the small lamp on the nightstand casting a soft amber glow across Nicole’s face. She could see her resting peacefully, her breathing less laboured. This person, this sublime creature existed in a world so different from the one she understood, a world she had been dropped into, or rather plunged into without warning.

The childlike innocence of her face, in this moment, was captivating. Gone was their verbal sparring in the waking dream, gone was their delicious dance towards each other in the dreamer’s dream. Gone was the arrogance, the impish persona, the dismissive humour pulling her in, pushing her away. In their place was a purity, so beautiful, so radiant. Transparent. Now. Now, she would kiss her for eternity, she thought. Caution be damned. 

She recognised what she had been running from for so long. What had been chasing her since she first had an inkling of who could catch her eye. What terrified her the most. It was true Nicole fascinated her, but there was something more. A deeper desire, she had fought hard to resist, about to capture her and this time she would not put up a fight. 

Nicole sighed, her mouth moving, a whisper leaving her lips. Waverly moved towards the bed. “I can’t hear you. What? What do you want?”

“In tents.”

“What's intense? The pain. Rest. You’re alive.”

“Tent.”

Waverly wanted to be near her. Curiously, she wanted to protect her. How could she, she wondered. How could a mere mortal protect a demigod? She moved round the bed, easing herself onto the empty side, her head resting on the pillow, her hand stretching out to stroke Nicole’s hair. Closing her eyes, she tried to reimagine the scene where they first met in the sleeping dream, unable to do so. Nicole’s voice flooded her mind. “Find me. I’ll be waiting.”

And, she was there once more. The billowing tent, a warm summer breeze against her skin, an anticipation, an eager excitement to be with the person she now knew would be waiting for her inside. Her hand pulled back the entrance, her eyes going to Nicole. She smiled up at her. “Thought you didn’t like tents.”

“I’ll make an exception, just this once for you. How do you feel?”

“Sore. Kind of hungover. Thank you for saving me.”

“X did. And, Nan. You were dying.”

“Still might. That is unless you do something for me.”

“Oh N, anything. I’m here for you.”

“Would you mind removing all your clothes.”

“Excuse me. How will that help?”

“It won’t. Just want to see you do it. Take my mind off the pain.”

“My God, you’re so annoying. You nearly died, and you’re teasing me. Do you know how worried I was holding you in my arms?”

“So, you do care about me.”

Waverly moved towards the bed. “I’ve a good mind to…”

“Kiss me. Can’t resist can you?”

“I’ve a good mind to tease you to the point you can’t stand it.”

“I’m all yours.” 

\+ + + +

Holliday had watched Waverly running towards the side of the church. The sound of his car being lifted and dropped like a child’s toy broke his attention. By the time he returned his gaze to the cathedral she had vanished into the shadows. One large figure remained, his back to him, Holliday unable to see what he was doing, although from the way he was leaning against the door he suspected he was breaking in. Then, he too was gone, in the blink of an eye. A movement so fast his mind had little time to register. He smiled to himself as another piece of information fell into his lap. 

Returning to his car for his flashlight, he was determined to find where Waverly had gone, cursing out loud when he saw the large dent on the roof where Rosita had danced. Whatever that Earp girl was up to he needed to know. Setting off in the direction he last saw the group, he swept the flashlight back and forth, searching for movement. At the cathedral entrance he checked the door for damage. Nothing. No marks, no attempts to force entry, just the heavy oak door used every day by church goers, although there was a subtle smell of burnt wood in the air, so light he might easily have missed it on any other occasion. Not tonight. His senses were primed, alert to all around. 

The church and graveyard took on a new level of menace, Holliday determined not to let whatever was happening rule his reactions. Shouts in the distance. A wolf cry, a high-pitched whistle, then silence. Rounding the side of the building, the light from his torch fell upon eyes. A momentary flash, caught in the beam, then they were gone. He moved forward, knowing someone, or something was there with him, close, very close, watching. Shadows were now alive, his own eyes created fleeting figures where none existed, his mind playing tricks. A movement. No, just the light falling against the wall. There. A shape. Human, animal, he no longer could tell.

One complete lap of the cathedral he was back at the entrance, standing still, listening. All was quiet. Too quiet. As if whoever might be there was holding its breath, waiting for him to leave, or an opportunity to pounce. He walked to his car, in no hurry to go, pulling out his phone, ringing Waverly’s number. No reply. He left a message telling her she had been seen, telling her they needed to speak. An hour later, with no more activity, with no contact from Waverly, he reluctantly set off for his hotel, determined to get to the bottom of what had taken place that night.

By now Robin and Rosita were with Auntie. She listened as the pair rattled through what happened, making them slow down, repeat parts of their story as necessary. “Where was N hit?”

“Lower left side,” Rosita explained. “They must have heard X putting the lock on.”

“Why weren’t you protecting her? You know she’s weak right now.”

“Forgive us,” Robin replied. “We were distracting a mortal.”

“Mortals are not our concern,” Auntie’s voice harsher than usual. “Did X lock the entrance?”

Rosita nodded. “We chased three away.”

“It will bide us time until we hear from Rome.”

“Their powers are growing,” Rosita added. “They’re stronger than before. Someone is feeding them.”

Xavier was in Nan’s kitchen when his phone rang. He reassured Auntie N had survived, but needed rest. She would visit in the morning, thanking him for all he had done. Xavier was her rock, Nicole’s too. The first to join forces with them on arriving in England, his years alone making him difficult to be with initially. He remained aloof, choosing not to live with the others, finding their frivolous ways an annoyance. In time, Auntie softened his heart a little, through love and generous portions of her cooking. 

He understood the loneliness behind Nicole’s eyes, the sadness within her heart through being different. No easy existence when all around are not like you, are afraid of you, afraid of your otherness. Eros paid little attention to his daughter, leaving her adrift in a world without direction. It fell to Xavier to teach her how to use her powers wisely, how to fight demons like him, he having survived the great battle on the plains of Har Megiddo, where the faithful and the fallen nearly destroyed each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Har Megiddo: According to the Book of Revelation in the New Testament of the Christian Bible, Armageddon (Hebrew: הר מגידו Har Megiddo) is the prophesied location of a gathering of armies for a battle during the end times, variously interpreted as either a literal or a symbolic location. The term is also used in a generic sense to refer to any end of the world scenario. 
> 
> The "mount" of Megiddo in northern Israel is not actually a mountain, but a tell (a mound or hill created by many generations of people living and rebuilding on the same spot) on which forts were built to guard the Via Maris, an ancient trade route linking Egypt with the northern empires of Syria, Anatolia and Mesopotamia. Megiddo was the location of various ancient battles, including one in the 15th century BC and one in 609 BC.


	13. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Nicole be able to fight the curse...

Waverly woke to Nicole’s snoring about to nudge her when she remembered why they were there. She leaned over, kissing her on the forehead, Nicole stirring. “See, can’t keep your lips off me.”

That earned her a thump. “I’m not doing this every time you’re about to die, do you hear me?”

“I hear you. And, back to those lips.”

“In a moment. I’ve got to say this. It’s been on my mind all night.”

“That I’m a fantastic kisser. Best you’ve had.”

Waverly howled. “N, stop, I’m being serious. I nearly got you killed. I can’t do this. Whatever this is, I’m in over my head. I’m ringing my editor, telling her I’m stepping away from the story.”

“You’re already in too deep. Now, let’s focus on those lips shall we.”

“What if you had died? What then?”

“Tricky. Wouldn’t get my lips. Mind you, Rosita quite likes you. Could have hers, I suppose.”

“That’s really hurtful. My whole life is upside down. I’m…and, all you can do is make fun.”

Nicole knew she had gone too far, her hand reaching out, the gesture brushed off. She attempted to sit up, wincing, lying down again. “That was cruel of me. I spoke out of turn. And, with a little jealousy.”

“Of Ros?”

Nicole could see a smile forming. “What? Tell me.”

“Oh, nothing,” Waverly replied. “Only, you’d better be nice to me from now on. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise?”

“Otherwise, I might just go find myself a demigod who treats me better.”

“Don’t you dare. I’m all the demigod you need.”

“Prove it.”

With that, Nicole pulled Waverly down towards her, making sure she knew she was adored.

Nicole managed to make it downstairs by the time Auntie arrived, looking drawn, her side still throbbing, Nan refusing to give her any of her special vodka. A few choice words from Auntie and Nicole relented, looking like a chastised child much to Waverly’s amusement. 

Waverly offered to give Auntie a lift back to the boat. She thanked her, saying Nan would do so later, hugging the pair, instructing Nicole to rest. Nicole was still weak. The wound inflicted had taken a greater toll on her body than she wanted to admit to Waverly. She knew she needed more time to heal, that this injury was different, drawing on her reserves, pulling her down into the dark world. She would do her best to shield Waverly from the oncoming storm, but she feared those who sought to harness the powers of sixty nine imprisoned demons were growing too strong for her and the others to fight on their own. 

Holliday wanted answers. First to arrive at the police station, he paced his office, a third mug of coffee almost finished, increasingly frustrated by everything going on at the cathedral. He had little to go on. Tenuous leads at best. A supposed lodger of the warden’s mentioned in passing and those mysterious figures in cahoots with that journalist. He called Waverly’s phone again, a futile exercise, given she left it on her desk in the rush to Nan’s.

Waverly opened the door to her house, a single plain white business envelope on the mat as she entered. Picking it up, she studied it, not entirely sure why someone would have hand-delivered it through her letterbox. Possibly from her editor, or someone at the newspaper, she guessed, although her name and address had been typed on what appeared to be an old typewriter. No one at the Mercury owned a typewriter, as far as she knew. 

Nicole leant against the doorway, her eyes closed for a moment to gather her senses, her face betraying the pain she was feeling once more, her head spinning. She knew something was not right. Nan’s incantation should have been more than sufficient to rid her of the curse, her mortal body dealing with the hole in her side. 

She could hear Waverly’s voice, muffled, distant, whatever she was saying about some stupid envelope was lost on her as she focused on getting to the couch. She opened her eyes, Waverly’s voice clearer now, asking if she was alright, her head nodding, knowing it was a lie. She was afraid. Genuinely afraid. She could feel it creeping through her veins, a strange feeling, new to her, an edginess, her mind beginning to think darker thoughts. 

She needed to sleep, go within, fight whatever was taking her over. She wished Waverly would stop talking, her voice drilling into her head. Her own words left her mouth before she could stop them. “Enough.”

Waverly stopped dead. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to stop talking.”

“I’m calling Nan. Give me her number.”

“No. Let me rest. And, stop looking at me. I don’t need your pity.”

“N, please. Whatever’s happening, please let me help.”

“I need no mortal. You, least of all.”

Waverly felt the anger in Nicole’s words pierce her own heart. She almost wished for the return of cheeky Nicole. The one who was kinder to her, to a degree. Nicole pushed past, desperate to reach the couch, to sleep, to rid herself of the poisonous thoughts beginning to infect her mind. Her body fell heavily, still fully clothed, no longer caring to remove her boots, or coat, or knives, her eyes closing, sleep taking over instantly, her body in a battle against the evil growing inside.

Waverly stood frozen, her mind racing through options, wanting to call Nan, not having her number, or Auntie’s, or anyone who might be able to help. Her hand went to open the envelope, her phone ringing on the desk interrupting what she was about to do. She answered, Holliday’s voice in her ear. “We need to talk.”

“Really not a good time.”

“Now, or I bring you in for questioning.”

Waverly paused, realising it was futile to resist. “Fine. I’m at home.”

Placing the unopened envelope on the desk, her priorities were a sick demigod and the arrival of a detective who wanted to know why she had been loitering in the vicinity of a crime scene to which she had been a witness. She needed a shower, she needed to clear her head, get her thoughts straight before Holliday arrived. The doorbell rang just as she finished dressing, ushering Holliday into the kitchen, returning to the lounge to check on Nicole. She was asleep, snoring, a less-pained look on her face once more. She closed the door, standing in the hallway taking several deep breaths to collect herself.

Holliday was in no mood for casual conversation. He watched as she filled the kettle to make him a coffee, the tension visible across her shoulders, her eyes deliberately avoiding his. “Are you going to tell me what you and your friends were doing last night?”

Waverly glanced over, returning to the kettle, flicking the switch, willing the water to boil. She knew she had to say something, anything, Holliday’s eyes drilling into her back. “We were making sure the door was locked.”

“Really? Not trying to unlock it.”

“No. Definitely not. Just want to keep certain people out.”

“Since when was that your job?”

“Since the canal,” she muttered under her breath. “It’s not. It’s just. I’m not sure I can help you.”

“In that case, I believe we need to continue this conversation at the police station.”

“No. I…you see…”

“You see,” Nicole interrupted, entering the kitchen, her hand gripping her side. “You see, she’s part of a group seeking to save humanity from its own stupidity.”

Nicole reached for one of the stools, bending over, letting out a long groan, sweat forming on her brow. Waverly rushed to her side. “N, what is it? What can I do?”

“Absinthe. I need Absinthe now.”

“No. You mustn’t. You’re sick. Please, come lie on the couch again.”

“For the wound. It needs to go on the wound.”

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Holliday asked, realising Nicole was hurt.

Waverly hesitated, not sure whether to trust Holliday, in a panic to help Nicole. “She was wounded, or something got her last night. Can you help me get her upstairs?”

“She needs a hospital if she’s been wounded. I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No. Please. This isn’t what it seems. Please. I can’t carry her myself.”

Nicole was fading. Her eyes closed, her breathing becoming laboured again. “Call Nan. Hurry.”

“I don’t know her number. N, I don’t have her number.”

Nicole pulled out her phone, handing it to Waverly. “Tell her it hurts. It’s poisoning my mind.”

Holliday caught her as she went down, dragging her out of the kitchen, lifting her in his arms. “Where’s the bedroom?”

“Upstairs, first right,” Waverly replied, already on the phone. “Nan, it’s Waverly, N’s bad again. Wants Absinthe. Asking for you?”

Nan’s voice was calm. “It’s fine. Just the after effects of the curse. Place a cloth soaked in alcohol over the wound. I’ll be with you as quickly as I can. Make sure the room is dark.”

“Got it. Absinthe. Wound. Darkened room.”

“Keep her cool.”

She followed as Holliday carried Nicole upstairs. “I need to buy Absinthe. I don’t want to leave her.”

He had no choice but to help. He was gone no more than ten minutes, letting himself in with Waverly’s keys, she upstairs, Nicole’s outer coat removed, knives laying crossed on top as Waverly had seen at Nan’s, a damp cloth on Nicole’s forehead, groaning, gripping her side. Waverly looked up as he entered, half a litre of alcohol in his hands. The room was dark, curtains drawn, the only light coming from the open door.

Unscrewing the top, pouring enough onto a cloth to soak it, she asked him to close the door to the bedroom, he moving inside. He could barely see, his eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness, waiting for whatever was about to happen.

Waverly felt for the buttons on Nicole’s waistcoat, gently lifting her shirt, struggling to find the location of the wound in reduced light. She hoped she was doing the right thing as she placed the drenched cloth as near to where she remembered the wound to be. Nicole’s cry pierced their ears, her hand reaching down, attempting to pull the cloth away, eyes glowing red, as ancient words tumbled from her mouth.

A knock on the door downstairs pulled Holliday from what he was witnessing. Leaving Waverly to tend to Nicole, he let Nan in. She smiled on seeing him, moving past, a large carpetbag in one hand, heading upstairs. He waited in the lounge, voices in the room above, footsteps on the stairs.

Holliday kept his eyes on Waverly as she entered the room. “If this is what I think it is. And, if she is what I think she is, how the hell are you mixed up in all this?”

“I’m sorry,” she began, the Absinthe bottle still in her hand, her mind lost in her own thoughts. “I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning helps. Here, sit. I’m on your side. Trust me.”

She looked at him. The first straight look in all the time he had been there. “I don’t know who to trust anymore. Everything is different. My life is different.”

“Waverly, you really can trust me. I am not your average detective. I know about these things. My guess is that woman you let in is a seer.”

Waverly slumped on her desk chair. “A seer?”

“A wise woman. Some would call her a witch. How do you know her?”

“I don’t. Not really. Slept in her house a few times, with N. She’s just an old lady who reads tea leaves. I need to check on N.”

“Waverly, wait. How do you know these people?”

Waverly needed to tell someone, anyone before she went mad, yet Nan’s words of caution buzzed in her head. “I can’t. It’s all beyond crazy. I’m sorry. I’ll pay you for the Absinthe.”

“N has powers. Am I right?”


	14. Nicole's Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What sacrifice must Nicole make to save her soul...

Their eyes met. Someone not connected with her new friends knew who they were. She let out a sigh. She had to trust him. She had no choice. “I was chased by dead men. Mossbacks they call them. N saved me. Now she’s dying upstairs because I went with her to the cathedral to lock it from those who want to use a key, which isn’t a key, but a book to unlock a cup that holds a lot of demons. And, I’m really, really scared right now.”

Holliday knew she was telling the truth, for once. “Do you know why those men were after you?”

“No. They were inside the cathedral. N says they shouldn’t be there. They nearly drowned me. I shouldn’t be able to see them. But, I can. They’re real. And, their hearts. I saw their hearts.”

“How could you see their hearts?”

“N pulled them from their bodies. We burnt them. I’m not mad. It feels like I’m going mad, but I’m not crazy.”

“You’re not crazy. Are there others like N?”

Waverly nodded. “I think one of them may have dented your car.”

“Knew it. And, the big guy, he’s one?”

“A demon. The others are demigods, I think. I’m not sure. I’ve only known them a few days. The night we were at the pub.”

“That makes more sense. Your car. Your voicemail.”

There was a loud knock on the door. Waverly jumped, tears coming to her eyes. “I really need a holiday.”

He was about to remark she had one, given his surname, but she had left the room already. He heard her talking with someone in the hall, a woman’s voice, more footsteps on the stairs. Waverly returned. “Can I make you that coffee?” she offered, remembering she hadn’t, the Absinthe bottle no longer in her hand. A scream from upstairs, Nicole’s voice crying out for whatever they were doing to her to stop. 

Holliday could see in Waverly’s eyes she was scared, realising he needed to comfort the person in his presence, not entirely sure how. As he went to put his arms round her, Xavier entered the room, eyeing him suspiciously. “What business have you here?”

“I’m on your side, believe me.” Holliday replied. “2010, on patrol. Our military vehicle was ambushed, only I survived because someone pulled me out. Would have died if they hadn’t.”

“Who? Who saved you?” Xavier asked, his voice gruff, wary of this stranger. “I asked you a question. Who of our kind saved you?”

“I…he never told me his name.”

“If that is so, then he will have left you something. Name it.”

“I heal. If I cut myself, it heals.”

“Roll up your sleeve,” Xavier demanded.

Holliday did as he was told, Waverly staring at his arm, no longer able to control anything in her life. Xavier pulled out one of his knives, its steel glistening as it caught the morning light. He approached Holliday, grabbing his arm, running the blade slowly along his skin, making a deep incision. Waverly suddenly felt faint, grabbing her desk chair, managing to sit before her legs gave way.

Xavier studied the cut, the blood oozing from the wound slowing almost immediately, stopping completely, the red line disappearing before his eyes. He returned his blade to his sheath. “You are welcome my brother.”

Nan finished attending to Nicole, turning to Auntie. “I’m worried. This curse is stronger than most. I knew she should have stayed with me. Taken more time to rest. At least until the wound had closed and we were sure the curse had left her body. Absinthe can only do so much once the curse takes hold inside.”

“I’m fine,” Nicole croaked, her hand reaching out for Auntie. “Where’s Waverly? She’ll be worried.”

“Downstairs. You need to sleep N. We’ll look after her until you’re mended. Sleep. Nan will stay with you. Make you the potion.”

“Not yet. I won’t take it until I see her. Bring her to me. She needs to know.”

“N, you have to let us do this.”

Nicole went to move, her hand gripping Auntie’s. “I need to tell her.”

“Alright, but only for a few minutes. Then you must sleep.”

Auntie headed downstairs, surprised to see Holliday. Waverly was sitting at her desk in a state of shock, Auntie rushing to her, throwing her arms round her shoulders, hugging her as if she were her own daughter. “My child, it’s fine. Just a relapse. She’s asking for you.”

“I…I’m so lost right now. Auntie, what if she doesn’t make it? What if…”

“Listen to me. N, will get through this. I promise. You have my word. We are stronger than any old knowledge. You hear me.”

Waverly wanted to believe her, but she had seen Nicole’s eyes, seen she was as scared as she was right now. “I’ll go to her.”

She heard Nan in the bathroom, the door closed, unfamiliar words being chanted. Nicole’s face was illuminated briefly by the light coming from the landing, wincing as it hit her eyes. “Sorry, sorry,” Waverly said, closing the bedroom door quickly behind her. “Oh N, I’m so sorry. I did this to you.”

Nicole’s voice was but a whisper. “Nan’s preparing a sleeping potion. I need to take it. I’m sorry too. It’s the curse. It’s not who I am. Believe me.”

“I do. You’re not your old cheeky self, who I kind of miss, even though she’s really annoying.”

“Ouch. Don’t make me laugh,” Nicole said holding her side, making a long breath out. “You should never have been caught up in any of this. You need go stay with Auntie.”

“I’m not leaving. No one can make me leave. This is my house remember.”

“Waverly, it’s no longer safe. Please, for me.”

“No. And, don’t argue with me.”

“Typical. Had to end up with a stubborn one.”

“Too right. Can I meet you in sleep?”

“Not while I’m under the influence of the potion. It’s too dangerous.”

“Why? I don’t understand.”

“Don’t try to find me. Let me find you.”

“I’m scared. Really scared.”

“I know. I’ll find you, I promise. Wait for me.”

Nan entered the room. “It’s time. N, are you ready?”

“No, but let’s get this over with. Waverly, I will find you again. I promise.”

Nan lifted Nicole’s head allowing her to drink the potion she concocted in the bathroom. They watched as Nicole’s eyes closed, her breathing becoming shallow, her head lolling to one side.

“How long will she be out?”

“Hopefully, no more than a day. Two at most. Let her be now.”

“What did she mean, she’ll find me again? Why? Why does she need to find me?”

Nan took her hand, opening the door to the bedroom, leading her to the landing. “She’ll not remember you when she wakes. I’m sorry, I couldn’t tell you before. She knows this. It’s for the best.”

Waverly was in freefall, every inch of ground she was standing on disappearing beneath her feet in that moment. Without realising, Nicole had become the person on whom in all the chaos, in all the confusion she had come to rely. Her centre in the middle of the storm raging all around. And, she was losing her. A death by any other name.

They sat in the lounge, Nan and Auntie whispering between themselves, Holliday finally having got his coffee fix. Waverly played with her phone, desperate for reassurance, wanting her sister more than ever. Still no message, unlike Wynonna, although she had mentioned a busy schedule. She couldn’t remember if Wynonna had taken an overnight bag with her to London. She sent a text, asking her to call when free, needing to hear her voice.

She called her mother, tears welling as she answered. “Hello my darling. This is a surprise. How’s Wynonna? Tell your sister to call me.”

“That’s what I was ringing about. Thought she might have been in contact.”

“No. Why? Honey, are you OK? You sound upset. Is everything alright?”

“It’s fine. Just work. I’ll get Wyn to call you. Say hi to everyone for me.”

“Darling, would you like me to come over? I’ve always said we’re only a few hours away if you need us. I can be there by this evening.”

“No, really it’s fine. Must go. Love you.”

She ended the call bursting into tears, Holliday and Xavier shifting uncomfortably in their seats, Auntie moving to console her. It no longer mattered a warden had been killed, or a stonemason was still missing, or dead men had chased her, or that she was having tea with an assortment of strangers possessing gifts and powers. 

What mattered was the person upstairs, the person she was beginning to have feelings for, the person who was out cold on her bed, with the distinct possibility of their budding friendship coming to an abrupt end before it ever had a chance to get started. In that moment she wished beyond anything she had been more like her sister, taking life by the collar and sucking every ounce of enjoyment out of it. She vowed if she ever got the opportunity with Nicole she would do just that. 

“My dear child, tell me. Why the tears?” Auntie asked, handing her a clean tissue, taking one of Waverly's hands in hers, patting it gently. “I’m here for you.”

“If N no longer knows who I am.”

“Nan’s initial incantation should have driven out the curse. This should have been straightforward. We are entering darker times. The fallen are growing stronger. Their curses more potent.”

“But, she won’t know me. Why? Why does it have to be like this? I was just getting to know her.”

“Because, the curse that entered her body seeks to poison the mind. Turn it against those who are dear to her.”

“Against everyone? Even you and the others.”

“Especially us. The flesh wound you saw is nothing compared to what the curse is capable of doing once rooted inside. N needs to fight this. To do so, she has to forget everyone who means something to her.”

“She won’t remember any of us?”

“No. Sadly, we all lose N this day. But, it is necessary in case the curse overpowers her and she tries to kill us.”

“Will she ever get her memory back?”

“Hopefully, in time. Nan has weakened the curse’s hold on her. But, we simply can’t take a risk. It is safer for everyone if she cannot remember her affection for us.”

“I can make sandwiches,” Waverly blurted out, suddenly. “Would anyone like sandwiches? I need to do something. Anything.”

“Waverly, sit. Nan and I will pop out, get food. You stay. Here is safe. I’ll make sure we get plenty of vegan snacks.”

There was a cry from upstairs, Nicole’s voice shouting at whoever was in her dreams. Auntie squeezed her hand. “It’s fine. It’s started. She needs to fight her own demons.”

“I…I think I love her,” Waverly said quietly, her head down, embarrassed to be admitting something so monumental for the first time in her life.

“I know, my child. And, N knows too. That’s what N will search for when all this is done. She will feel the love in your heart and see it in your eyes, as we have.”

“How? How did you know when I didn’t?”

“Nan read it in your tea leaves. The first time she met you.”

“Oh. Right. Actually, sorry, none of this makes any sense anymore.”

“In time it will. All things are revealed if you know how to read the signs. Keep the love you have for N in your heart, no matter what she might say, or do.”

“She can be really annoying sometimes, can’t she?”

“Very,” Auntie replied, smiling, patting Waverly’s hand again. “But, isn’t that why we love her. I can see you have a question.”

Waverly knew what she wanted to ask, holding Auntie’s hand leading her to the kitchen. She flicked the kettle on again, picking up a tea spoon, not quite sure why. Auntie could tell she was struggling. “Ask, and I will tell you.”

“You’ve known her a long time,” Waverly began. “Ros said she’s only ever really loved one person.”

“And, what is your question?”

“Do you…could she love another?”

“Is that your question?”

“Yes. No, I mean. Do you think she could love me?”

“What does your heart tell you?”

“I don’t know. I’m too afraid to look.”

“Maybe now is the time to put aside those fears.”


	15. Other Worldly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When an enemy believes itself to be invincible...

Waverly was left to contemplate what was in her heart while Auntie and Nan headed off for provisions. Another round of tea and coffees, Waverly once more was sitting in the lounge, this time with the two men. Holliday was coming to the end of summarising the warden’s case and his hunches, Xavier nodding.

“Reckon at least four to get the body to where it was found,” Holliday conjectured. 

“Two," Xavier countered. "You’re forgetting the strength of those who might do this.”

“And, the blood on the wall suggests whoever did this wanted to make it look like a cult killing.”

“You say there were words on the wall.”

“Written in human blood. Not the warden’s. About returning a key.”

Xavier pondered the words. He sat in silence for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. “My guess is the warden's death was unintended. An unfortunate by-product.”

“Unfortunate for that guy. Why cut him in half? Too staged for my liking.”

"Perhaps the question should be why those who did this wanted to draw so much attention to the cathedral? Counter-intuitive if you wanted whatever you were doing to remain undetected." 

"Exactly. Back to what I was saying about this being too theatrical. As if someone is showing off."

"Whoever did this is arrogant, or confident enough, to believe they will not be caught."

"Isn't that what every criminal believes," Holliday added. "There's also the question of why it was the warden. I'm beginning to wonder whose side he was on.”

“As in, good or bad,” Waverly interrupted. “You think the warden was bad?”

“Not necessarily," Holliday replied. "But, what did he know, or see that made him a target?”

“He showed me earth under the cathedral. And, a G sign. That’s how he found them. Bones in earth.”

Xavier stared at Waverly, his mug falling to the floor. “No, no, no. What did you see? What did the warden show you?”

She could see Xavier’s panic. “I…he…”

“Waverly, this is important. What did you see?”

“A pile of earth. That’s all. Not belonging to the cathedral, the warden said. Fourteen pillars down, nine to the left.”

“That’s how they’re getting in. That’s how they’re by-passing the lock. Those bastards.”

“But, it was just earth,” Waverly repeated. “Please, someone, what’s going on?”

Xavier didn’t know where to start. He picked up his mug, looking at the large tea stain on the carpet. “I’m sorry, I’ll clean that up. Forgive me.”

“X, please. Tell me what’s happening at the cathedral.”

“Where do I begin?” he replied.

They heard the front door open. Auntie and Nan were back from the shops, laughing, their lighter mood about to be abruptly curtailed. Xavier was out of his seat, stepping in the tea, Waverly no longer caring her carpet was being ruined. Holliday had finished his coffee, in need of something stronger. He put his mug down on the small table beside the couch. “We may need to check out this pile under the cathedral.”

Waverly nodded, really not wanting to venture into that underworld again. If anywhere made her feel scared, it was there. If someone were to ask her why, she would struggle to give a precise answer. The absence of light, perhaps. The musty smell, possibly. Her footsteps echoing between pillars, probably. Beyond these, there was something triggering her fears, she just couldn't put any definitive cause to her feeling of dread. Her gut told her something evil was lurking beneath. 

“Does any of this,” she began. “Are you as freaked out as I am?”

“Other-worldly,” Holliday replied. “Takes a bit of getting used to.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“No.”

“You have no idea what’s going on either?”

“None. But, I'd rather be with these guys if supernatural shit is happening.”

“What happened to you in the military?”

“Whatever the guy did to me kind of enhanced what I already could do.”

“Is that what they do?”

“I assume. Never had anyone to discuss this with before. Not something you talk about.”

“You could heal before?”

“Often wondered if they choose those who are different. Sniff us out.”

Waverly contemplated his words. Her life had been ordinary before this. No gifts, no other-worldly encounters. “I’m not different. A little too cautious perhaps.”

“You see dead people. I’d call that different.”

If anything, her gut made her different. Ever since Willa vanished she could sense when something was wrong. In the cathedral, the men at the back and in the car park. Sure, seeing dead men was different. But, it was her gut telling her to look in their direction that alerted her to their menacing presence. Then there was the warden in his office. Before she had seen inside the room she knew something bad was behind the door. Perhaps it was trust issues as her therapist remarked, given the trauma she experienced as a child.

Perhaps that was why she gravitated towards Nicole. It was all matter of fact to her. Dead people smelling of moss. Why not. Old magic, old books, old cups. Sure. Ripping hearts from bodies and burning them. Of course. Her crazy world, Nicole’s crazy world appealed to her, made her feel safe in a perverse, upside down way. She wanted Nicole by her side more than ever.

Waverly headed to the hallway, the front door open, Xavier having moved Auntie and Nan outside to speak. She mounted the stairs, entering her bedroom, lying on the bed beside Nicole. “I need you. N, I need you. I know you said don’t follow, but without you I won’t be able to keep going.”

She cleared her mind, needing to meet her in the dream world, eyes closing, thinking of their tent. The more she tried the further away she felt from Nicole. “Find me, N, find me, wherever you are.”

A scene flashed in her mind. A cell of some kind. Cold, very cold, damp, sounds of others crying out in despair. Before her was Nicole, head against the wall, muttering to herself, running her finger along the large grey stone blocks. In rags, chains on her ankles and wrists, restricting her movements. _This must be the prison where she was kept,_ Waverly thought, as her eyes scanned the room. She gasped as a cockroach scurried past her foot.

Nicole’s head turned slightly, enough for Waverly to see her eyes, the pain in them making her look away, her heart breaking. “I’m here for you. N, I’m here for you.”

“Another fantasy. Pretty. You’re pretty. Prettier than a roach. And, you speak.”

“N, what do I do?”

“Come closer. Let me see your eyes.”

Waverly edged nearer, hoping Nicole was sane enough to know who she was. She was within reach when Nicole lashed out, grabbing her by the throat, forcing her against the wall. “You feel real, you even smell real, but how can I be sure? No, you’re a demon here to torment me. Aren’t you?”

“No. N,” Waverly choked, the grip too tight around her neck. “N, it’s me.”

Nicole’s grip loosened, a look of confusion on her face. “Can you play chess? I’m looking for a chess partner.”

“I…I can play. I’ll play with you.” Waverly tried to pull Nicole’s hand away from her throat. “Only if you let go.”

She could see Nicole weighing up the options. “What if I kill you now? That way I win.”

“But, you won’t have the satisfaction of beating me.”

Nicole’s hand released from her neck. “True. Very true. You are smart. I like you demon. We play to the death.”

“And, if I win, we make love.”

Nicole’s eyes flashed amber. “Waverly, no. You can’t be here. My god, you’re so beautiful. Leave, before I kill you.”

The dream vanished. Waverly could still feel Nicole’s hand where her neck had been gripped. She knew what she had done was dangerous. Yet, whatever Nicole was going through, she wanted her to know she was by her side. The bedroom door opened, Auntie silhouetted in the light from the landing looking down at her. “It’s okay, my child. I understand how much she means to you, but we need you downstairs.”

“She’s in some kind of prison. She recognised me, only for a moment, but she knew who I was.”

“Waverly, she needs to fight this on her own. It was brave of you, very brave to enter that realm unprotected, but you’re dealing with darker forces, forces that take no prisoners.”

“I’ve agreed to play chess with her. She’s chained. If I play chess and I win.”

“My child. This is not like the real world. There are no guarantees what you’ll encounter. Nicole probably sensed your presence, made sure she was chained so as not to be tempted to rip your body open.”

Waverly realised the danger she had put herself in. “I…she. How do you not go mad?”

“I’ve had few more years of this than you. Plus, brandy helps. Come my child, we have work to do.”

All eyes were on Waverly as she returned to the lounge. They were quiet as Xavier explained to her the pile of earth containing bones was a way those who sought to could enter sacred places. A portal for evil. It would need someone inside the cathedral to facilitate their entry. The warden perhaps, although being dead ruled him out. Their attention turned to the Dean.

“Does anyone know this guy?” Xavier asked, looking round the room.

“Seemed okay when I spoke to him,” Waverly offered, Holliday nodding in agreement. “Although, he wouldn’t enter the warden’s office. Said it needed to be cleansed.”

“Nan, anything?” Xavier continued. “Any rumours? Any suspicions?”

“Not that I know of. If I could read his leaves it might offer us something.”

“There was a cleaner,” Waverly interrupted. “Kept hovering around. I don’t know. Could the cleaner be dirty?”

The group looked at her, waiting for her to realise what she had said. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Dirty cleaner,” Holliday explained. “Might be worth checking out. Fairly non-committal in his interview at the station. Could pull him in for further questioning. And, the Dean. Not sure I can get either to drink tea mind.”

Waverly had her hand up. “Sorry, just one other thought. I was covering the disappearance of a stonemason. And, well, he’s not showed up.”

“A stonemason,” Xavier repeated. “Interesting. Thank you.”

Waverly looked at Auntie for understanding, she merely smiling back at her. “Look, I’ve got to say this. And, pardon my French, but, I’m so fucking confused right now.”

Nan was on hand to provide some guidance. “Waverly, there are those in this world who pretend to be who they are not. To the outside world they are their jobs, or their uniform, garnering trust where none should be given.”

“They seek to deceive?” Waverly asked.

“They seek to exploit those naïve enough to take them at face value,” Nan continued. “In that way, they can move among us, satisfying their own selfish desires, all the while laughing behind our backs. Sometimes laughing in our faces. Man’s capacity for stupidity when faced with real dangers.”

“N mentioned that. Here to save humanity from their own stupidity.”

Her mind went to Nicole, her eyes closing, the chill of the cell returning. “Back so soon. Ready to play? I prefer my chances, but I’ll take your wager too.”


	16. Purple Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it's like to be different from others...

“N, I’m not meant to be here,” Waverly said, backing away, her hands pressed against a stone cold wall for what little safety it could provide. “I’m…you nearly strangled me.”

“A precaution,” Nicole replied, her eyes drinking in Waverly’s body. “If you’re here you must be in league with those who want to poison me against those I love.”

“I’m not. I’m on your side. But, I can’t be here. Not with you.”

“Be gone then,” Nicole roared. “I have no time for your games. You’re not who you appear to be. You are an imposter in need of having its heart ripped from its body.”

“No, I am. I miss you. N, if you’re in there. I really miss you.”

Nicole’s eyes flashed amber. “Waverly, please, I beg you, get out now. I can feel the darkness growing.”

Waverly felt someone shaking her. “My child, wake up. Waverly, wake up.” Auntie’s voice pulling her from the dream.

“I…I couldn’t stop it,” she said, looking at a sea of concerned faces. “It was pulling me in. It wants me there with her.”

“That’s how the curse works,” Auntie explained. “It seeks out those who are closest, offering them for slaughter. It picked you knowing it had a good chance of succeeding sensing how new you are to all this. Imagine how N would feel knowing she killed what she loved. Imagine the pain it would cause her. That’s what the curse feeds on. It would devour her remorse, feed on the pain created in her soul with each life taken. We won’t let it win.”

“But, how can I be killed in a dream?” Waverly asked, desperately trying to fathom the strange world in which she now ran. “How could I feel N’s hands on my neck? How can I taste champagne? Or, be in a meadow with a tent. It’s real. How can it all be real?”

Auntie took both her hands. “There are many worlds. N has shown you the play world, the world beyond the waking dream, the world that allows us to drop all the assumptions of who we believe ourselves to be as we walk about this world with our eyes open. Her tent world is a Garden of Eden, if you like, one in which she can reveal to you the love she has in her heart. There are so many other worlds in which we can play, at the invitation of our demigod. You are in for a treat, my child.”

Waverly dropped her eyes. “There was a club, with other demigods, I think. Their eyes shone like N’s. Purple.”

Auntie laughed. “Okay. That’s for younger folk. I have not been invited to that one, although it shows N trusts you enough to take you somewhere like that. These places you visit are sanctuaries for N to retreat to as the need arises.”

“But, why do her eyes change? You know, go purple.”

“Because of wormwood,” Auntie replied. “It’s the herb of the gods. It restores sanity, when this world seeks to suck it from their veins. Nicole uses it to forget the time she was imprisoned. A scar on her soul that nearly destroyed her.”

Waverly listened to Auntie’s explanations, nodding, still completely lost as to how this new life operated, a new life she would have to call hers for now. “I had no control,” Waverly said, after some moments’ contemplation. “What if I get sucked into another world tonight, when I sleep? What if I get dragged back to that prison cell? What if…”

Auntie squeezed her hands. “Nan will place a protection on you. She will stop N from dragging you to her. For your own safety.”

“I want to help her,” Waverly replied, pulling her hands away. “I want to be there for her. I…I just don’t want her killing me that’s all.”

“Nan’s protection means the curse won’t be able use N to lure you in. But, you must be careful. N has already demonstrated this curse is stronger than any she’s encountered before. We’re dealing with the darkest magic, the oldest knowledge.”

Nan took Waverly’s right hand, drawing a figure of eight repeatedly on the palm with her index finger as she muttered words Waverly could not understand. A calm descended over her body, a weight lifting, leaving her lighter, so much lighter, than she had felt in recent days, as if she had taken a long, deep breath then exhaled. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t know what you did but thank you.”

“A pleasure, my child,” Nan replied. “You are a natural. You take to magic easily.”

“Forgive me, but how do you know all this? The potions. The incantations. What you just did to me.”

Nan patted her hand. “My family taught me their ways. The way to use words to invoke certain changes in this world. There are those who would see to it our kind were gone. Burned, drowned, buried alive, dangled from the end of a rope. Cruelty towards something they fear. Something they can’t understand with their closed minds.”

“Your family were persecuted?”

“Kept ourselves to ourselves, unless someone came to us in need of our help. They knew who we were then alright, knew they could use our old ways if they were in real need. Those who had need of magic.”

“Like N?”

“She found me with the rope still round my neck. Some lads thought it would be fun to see if I could survive their little game of dancing to the hangman’s tune.”

“Because of who you are. Your gifts.”

“Until that day, until N saved me, I’d been afraid of my gifts. Of being different, of people finding out I wasn’t like them. She taught me to love what I could do, use my gifts for good. Use them where needed. And now, she needs my gifts and finally I understand why she saved me that day.”

From Nan’s story of how Nicole entered her life, to Holliday’s encounter while in the military, Waverly was beginning to sense demigods might be attracted to those who they recognised as being different. Those who might look normal, those who might blend in with the rest of society, but deep down were not like others. Those who society tended to ostracise, or do far worse given Nan’s ordeal, if they suspected the gifts they possessed. 

What about Auntie? she wondered. Why did N save her? Now was not the time, nor the place to ask. But, the questions were there, in her mind. What was different about Auntie? And, what was different about her?

Demigods knew instinctively from a very early age they too were different. They knew they could do things others could not. Bound to a world into which they were born, capable of so much more, their powers hidden from most in a world in which they had to exist alongside lesser creatures. Nicole sensed it the moment her mother first gazed into those beautiful, glowing amber eyes of her new born. Love mixed with fear. She quickly came to realise other children were not like her, could not run as fast, hear as well, kill as quickly, a wild boar dispatched with her bare hands at the age of four having savagely attacked her pet dog.

It stayed with her. The horrified look on her mother’s face, when she saw what her young daughter had done, small bloodied hands reaching out for her mother only to be rejected, teaching her a valuable lesson that day. She became extremely good at not standing out, growing up like any other kid, her powers growing with her, kept locked away. Not drawing undue attention to herself, despite her beauty, despite her height, despite her distinctive flame-coloured hair. Of course, other children could sense she was not like them, even if she looked like them, or pretended to act like them. They would tease her, torment her into retaliating, little realising she possessed strengths far beyond their own. She knew better than to rise to any challenge. Taming the inner desire to lash out, to show off. 

\+ + + +

Xavier was on his phone, in discussion with Jeremy. They needed a plan and he was the best at co-ordinating any strategy they would need. A scholar by choice, spending decades at the Vatican as one of their archivists, the one who preferred the path of non-violence, unless his life was at stake, that is. Use your head not your hands guys he would say, a sentiment lost on Robin and Rosita. He tolerated Robin’s youthful enthusiasm for a fight, but would never take part in such activity, much to Robin’s frustration. And then, there was Rosita. A natural in combat, ferocious if you got on her wrong side, charming if she liked you.

“I’ve been in contact with the Vatican,” Jeremy advised, as he sat looking through the various communications he had received from Rome. “The book to open the cursed cup is still there. Intact. No security seals broken they advise.”

“So, no one’s been near it.” Xavier said. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and no,” Jeremy replied. “If anyone was trying to steal the book, bring it to England, they haven’t. Or, to put it another way, they haven’t yet.”

“So, you think someone could.”

“That place is heavily fortified, cameras everywhere. Plus, there’s a state of the art tracking system on all items. If someone so much as touched that book, the system should know about it.”

“Reassuring,” Xavier said, feeling slightly less nervous about the prospects of meeting his old demon friends again. “So, we’re safe for now.”

“Well, that depends,” Jeremy replied. “One thought is troubling me.”

“I don’t want to ask, but tell me what this one thought is that’s troubling you.”

“Supposing it wasn't the intention for the book to come to England. What if someone is planning to take the cup to Rome? It would make more sense. Afterall, getting a cup out of a cathedral is a whole lot easier than getting King Solomon’s spell book out of the Vatican.”

Xavier paused, taking in Jeremy’s words, shaking his head. “If you’re right we’re fucked,” he replied, the others looking at him anxiously, he mouthing sorry as he continued to listen to Jeremy.

“The key could then be used by someone who knows how to release the demons,” Jeremy explained. “King Solomon’s own words unlocking them from their prison, a massive army of really, really pissed demons to do their bidding.”

“Which probably means, I’m fucked too when the demons find me. Thanks Jeremy. That’s made my day.”

Xavier ended his call, staring at the carpet, contemplating their next move on the ground, knowing events were catching up with them. Fast.

Holliday was eager to get going. He wanted action. More importantly, he wanted answers to the murder of the warden and drinking tea in Waverly’s house was not going to get him either. He went to leave, Xavier standing, blocking his exit. “Where are you going?”

“To the cathedral. Need to take a look under the church for myself. And, this bone pile.”

“I can go too,” Waverly offered, hoping someone would stop her. “I’ve seen it. I should be able to find it again, I think. Take a photo perhaps.”

“Yes, that would work. As long as you’re not seen,” Xavier replied.

“So, you do want me to go down there, in the dark,” Waverly stated, suddenly regretting having offered, wondering if Nan’s protection had made her a little too confident compared to her usual cautious approach to life.

Xavier let out a long sigh. “Waverly you go. Take as many photos as you can. I need to see what is occurring. Regrettably, I can’t enter the cathedral.”

Waverly lowered her gaze. “Because of who you are?”

“Because of who I am. The gods tolerate my existence, providing I don’t set foot inside a holy space.”


	17. Quiet Bravery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly has to go where she doesn't want to go...
> 
> .

The pair made their way to the cathedral, Waverly quiet, lost in her own thoughts about entering that murky place once again, out of sight from church goers, somewhere not top on her wish list. Without Nicole by her side she knew she needed to be the brave one. Only a few visitors were in the cathedral when they entered, allowing them easy passage to where they needed to go. At the shrine Holliday followed her into the crypt, trying the door to the space beneath the cathedral. Locked, Holliday pulling out a set of picks, working quickly, winking at Waverly. “Takes a thief to catch a thief.”

They edged their way through the pillars, counting as they went, fourteen down, nine to the left, arriving at where Waverly had seen the pile of earth. “It was there, I’m sure of it. About, two feet high, about this wide,” Waverly said, spreading out her arms. “Look there, the ground is darker.”

Holliday threw light over the area. “It’s been removed. Presumably, no longer needed whatever it was needed for. Best take photos to record the spot.”

“I think it has something to do with those dead men,” Waverly said, holding her phone up to take the shots. “I didn’t realise at the time, but the smell. The warden didn’t seem to know what it was for either. Only, that it hadn’t been there before.”

Holliday snapped a few shots, checking them on his phone. “I do not doubt you are correct. Such spaces attract those with darker hearts. A deliberate corruption of somewhere sacred.”

Waverly shuddered at Holliday’s words. The more she was learning about the cathedral, the less she liked. 

\+ + + +

Nan remained in the bedroom with Nicole, sitting in an armchair Xavier brought up from the lounge. Her knitting out, she busied herself with the red jumper she was making in almost total darkness, her needles clicking away as she completed each row. Nicole stirred, mumbling, her words incoherent, one arm stretching out into the empty space beside her body, as if to push someone, or something, away. 

Auntie entered the room, a mug of tea in each hand, leaving the door slightly open so as to see where to place them on the dressing table.

“Any change?” she asked, watching Nan lower her needles. “Is she over the worst?”

“I believe so,” Nan replied. “She was weak when she entered the altered state. But, yes. I can see in my mind’s eye she is over the worst.”

“She knew to return to her memories of the prison. That was clever. I will be able to guide her back once the curse is locked inside the cell.”

“That would be extremely dangerous,” Nan counselled. “Let her do this alone. It’s for the best.”

“I can’t. She is a daughter to me. I can’t let her do this alone, even if it means my death at her hands.”

Auntie sat on the edge of the bed, eyes closing, her hands resting on her knees, preparing herself. Nan watched as the outline of her body began to blur, her human form becoming fuzzy as she shifted to what her mind was now focused on becoming. It took no more than a few seconds for her new form to appear. To an outsider, to anyone entering the bedroom they would have been witness to a tiny cockroach sitting upright on the corner of the bed, in what looked like a meditative pose.

She knew her destination. The cell where her beloved Nicole was fighting the temptations of a demon curse. She allowed her own thoughts to clear, waiting for the connection, praying Nicole was now strong enough not to be tempted to destroy whatever was put before her.

“Hello,” she said, as the image of Nicole appeared before her. “It’s me.”

“Ah, my friend the roach. I wondered when you would return.”

“We can play if you wish. To pass away the time.”

“No. I’m waiting for the other one. The demon who wants to beat me.”

“They may not come for a while. Perhaps we could play until they arrive.”

“I said no,” Nicole’s voice angrier than Auntie had heard in years. “I need to play with her. Only her. She promised me something. Something I desire very much.”

“That may not be possible.”

Nicole turned her head back to the wall, running her finger once more along the stones, tracing the name of the one person she had thought about constantly in the fifteen years of imprisonment, trying to remember who it was, what they looked like. “I will only come back if I can play with them.”

“The game has been forfeited. You win.”

“No. I will not return until that game is played. You hear me. Roach, you hear me.”

“N, it is too risky. You have to let her go. Your mind has to give her up.” 

Nicole moved her gaze from the wall, allowing her amber eyes to focus on the roach. “Don’t let her come here. I beg you. Keep her away. It knows I am tempted by her. It’s using her. Please. She’s all I have.”

“It is done. She’s safe. N, she’s safe. I promise.”

“Thank you. Tell her I love her. Tell her…”

“I will. She knows. N, she knows.”

Auntie felt the vision fading, knowing Nicole had deliberately severed their connection. Her shape shifted back to human form, her eyes opening, tears welling. “She’s in a bad way Nancy. But, I too sense the hold of the curse is nearly over. It’s trying everything, but it cannot break her, I’m sure of it now.”

“Did she recognise you?”

“For a moment. All she has to do is release Waverly from her mind and she’ll be able to return."

“A stranger.”

“A stranger to us, yes. But alive. Hopefully sane. Which is what we all want. Even Waverly.”

Waverly entered the house, Holliday holding back, saying he needed to check on a few things at the station. Xavier too had left. It was just her as she entered the lounge, her eyes falling on the unopened envelope, name and address on the front, typed on what looked like an old typewriter. Her hand reached for it, making a small tear, inserting a finger along the top, moving it until the opening was large enough to extract the contents. One piece of paper. White. Folded. Whatever it contained, the time had arrived to read it. The words on the sheet were also typed, her eyes scanning quickly for their meaning:

Dear Miss Earp,

It was indeed a pleasure to meet you recently and to assist, where I could, in your research regarding the disappearance of our stonemason. Such an unfortunate business, such a mystery as to what might have happened to him. I can only hope he returns to us safe.

I must apologise for our foray underground. I do so get carried away with the mysteries of this majestic place, the history of which has long been a fascination of mine. I believe the church has two personalities. One above ground, one below. 

Forgive me for my candour, but below ground interests me the most. Similarly, it has been a subject close to my cousin’s heart. We have spent many an hour exploring beneath this fine building, delighting in the items found. The old penny I gave you, with a hole, is one such find. Worthless, but intriguing. 

I have taken the liberty of providing my cousin’s details, should you wish to contact her for any further information you might require.

Regards

Charles Forbes,  
Warden, St. Albans Cathedral

Mercedes Gardner, Head Curator - St. Albans Museum  
e: museum@stalbans.gov.uk t: 01727 864 511

Waverly read the letter again, confused as to how it could have been delivered when the warden was dead, feeling in the pocket of her jacket, retrieving the coin she had been given, studying its details. Old, worn, mostly black, the head of some royal on the throne at the time the coin was minted barely visible. Even the date was indistinguishable, unable to tell which century it belonged. All she remembered was the comment the warden made when he handed it to her in his office. “Penny for your thoughts,” he had said, holding out the coin.

 _Did I laugh?_ she thought. _I must have laughed, or smiled. Yes, I smiled. Did he say where he got it? No, I would have remembered. He was telling me about the chisel marks, that’s it. And, the swan carving in the main church. Never did see it. I wonder why he didn’t show me that._ Auntie entered the lounge, stopping on seeing Waverly, following her eyes to the paper held in her hand. “My child, what is it?”

“A note from the warden. Except, it came yesterday and the warden’s been dead for a few days.”

Auntie took the letter from Waverly, reading the contents. “My guess is the warden’s cousin. She may know something.”

“I’m not sure it would be right contacting her,” Waverly said. “I mean, her cousin’s just been murdered.”

“Perhaps,” Auntie replied. “No harm in calling her, even simply to offer your condolences.”

“Right. Yes, good thinking. And, then maybe I could casually mention what’s going on under the cathedral.”

Waverly called the number on the warden’s letter, the museum receptionist putting her through to the curator. “Hi, sorry to bother you,” Waverly began. “But, I met your cousin recently at the cathedral. He gave me your details.”

There was a pause, Waverly now regretting having called so soon after the warden’s death. “Is this Waverly Earp?” the woman asked.

“It is. I’m so sorry about Mr. Forbes. I was covering the disappearance of the stonemason. He was most helpful.”

“Charles was such a lovely man,” the woman replied. “Dreadful what happened, especially in his beloved cathedral. He was due to show me his latest discovery.”

“He showed me,” Waverly interrupted. “There are new markings on pillars. Someone has been down there recently.”

“Charles had his suspicions.”

Waverly didn’t want to ask, knowing she had to. “I don’t suppose you would consider revisiting the cathedral with me. I’d be interested in your views on the new markings.”

There was a pause, the woman presumably considering Waverly’s request. “I’m due to go to lunch in an hour. I could meet you at the Shrine.”

“Sorry, can I ask one question? Did you deliver Charles’ letter?”

“My sister lives three houses down from you. Beth. You might know her.”

“Beth. Yes. I didn’t know she has a sister. Small world.”

She called Holliday, telling him where to meet, suggesting he bring his lock picks with him. Auntie thought Jeremy should accompany them, knowing his vast knowledge on signs and symbols would not go amiss.

Jeremy was first to arrive at the cathedral, entering the crypt, running his hand along the stone carvings on the tomb in the centre. Holliday and Waverly descended the steps, spying Jeremy wondering what he was doing. “You know this tomb belongs to Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester,” Jeremy stated. “He’s the only royal buried in the cathedral.”

“You don’t say,” Holliday replied. “Nice to see he got a cosy resting place.”

“Fascinating story,” Jeremy continued, ignoring Holliday’s dig at wealth on display. “His wife was accused of witchcraft and his step-mother was also accused of the same crime.”

“That’s a lot of witches,” Holliday observed. “Some of us don’t get the luxury of such a fine resting place.”

“Wait. You’re a witch?” Waverly asked, no longer fazed at making such a comment.

“My mother’s side. Never knew my father, but I’m guessing he’s the one I got my fancy blood from.”

“Right. Oh, right. Is that why you do weird killings?”

Holliday smirked. “I don’t do weird killings. Investigate them. I simply understand enough about the craft to know when it’s been used.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean you do the killings…I meant…”


	18. Rank Liquid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Nicole remember who she is...
> 
> .

Waverly was interrupted by the appearance of Mercedes Gardner, the warden’s cousin, Head Curator at St. Albans museum, a slender woman probably a few years older than herself Waverly guessed, well-dressed, carrying an executive looking folder in one hand. “Hello, gosh I thought it would only be us two,” she said, holding out her hand.

“This is DCI Holliday, he’s investigating your…and this is my friend Jeremy, who likes old things.”

“Well, you’re certainly in the right place. There’s a fascinating story around this tomb.”

“Witchcraft,” Waverly replied.

Mercedes smiled, Waverly spotting its falseness immediately. “Did you know when they opened Humphrey’s coffin the body was found to be perfectly preserved over two hundred and fifty years after his burial.”

“I did not know that,” Jeremy said, clearly impressed. “Presumably some form of incantation by his wife.”

Mercedes laughed. “Only if her name was brandy. No, he was swimming in a bath of alcohol and herbs. Women would visit his tomb to drink a thimble of the liquid, supposedly to ward off wrinkles.”

Waverly retched. The thought of drinking the juices of a dead man pickled in brandy a little too much for her. Holliday had unlocked the door already, standing back to allow the ladies to enter first, eyeing Jeremy suspiciously as he followed. Flashlights on, Mercedes unzipped her folder, pulling out a map she had drawn of the underground space. “We’ve located two tunnels, so far. Bound to be more. Did you know there’s a set of steps in one of the pillars under the cathedral’s organ? Now, there’s a story.”

“The warden mentioned markings on the pillars,” Waverly interrupted, sensing Mercedes was about to launch into another tale, not wanting to spend any more time than she had to underground. “He seemed to think they were made recently.”

“Oh, there’s lots of markings,” Mercedes replied. “I’ve counted over three hundred so far in my explorations and that’s just scratching the surface. Many I believe are from people sheltering here during the war, given the dates etched, some are much older. It takes a trained eye to differentiate which is random, and which is ritual.”

Holliday’s ears pricked up. “Why ritual? I would know if something like that had occurred down here.”

Mercedes gave him a curious look. “You may need to go deeper. Chambers below this lower level once used by monks when this was a monastery. Supposedly where several Templar knights are buried. Oh, and don’t forget much of this cathedral is built on top of an ancient Roman town.”

Consulting her map, Mercedes strode off in the direction of the pile of bones, arriving at the spot where the damp earth once was. “This is the spot where the warden brought me,” Waverly said. “Earth, with bones sticking out.”

“Gosh, how strange,” Mercedes replied. “Yes, there’s a damp patch, I can see. I wonder why that would be here.”

“Your cousin was confused too. Said, he hadn’t seen anything like this before.”

Mercedes studied Waverly’s face. “Yes, I’ve never come across that in any of our excursions. Someone must have thought it would not be spotted being down here. A little creepy, if you ask me.”

Waverly was in complete agreement. Everything under the cathedral was a little creepy, the bone pile especially so. She no longer was sure whether the bone pile’s removal was creepier, or that someone had chosen to place it there in the first place.

Shining her torch over the area, Mercedes surveyed her map again, turning left counting along another fourteen pillars, turning right nine pillars, right again fourteen more pillars. The group followed behind, Jeremy throwing light over every pillar, noticing the chiselled markings on each as they passed.

“Here we are,” Mercedes announced, the group looking around. 

Waverly stared at the space, seeing nothing, remembering Nicole’s words to look beyond the surface, glancing over at Jeremy, who shrugged equally unsure why they were where they were. Holliday moved forward, running his hand over a pillar. “Yes, this is the place. How clever.”

“The chisel markings stop here. I don’t know if you noticed, but we followed the path of an S to get here. Such strange symbolism to this place, I’m in awe.”

Waverly raised her hand. “Sorry, only couldn’t we have just got to the pillar by a more direct route.”

Mercedes shook her head. “That’s the strange part. It can only be reached by following certain markings. I’ve tried. It’s like a hall of mirrors otherwise, every pillar becomes the same.”

“Could you show me the pillar with the steps carved into it?” Jeremy asked, moving closer to Mercedes, catching a look at her map. 

“I’d be happy to. It’s over there.” 

Mercedes marched off, Jeremy following, their lights fading as they moved further into the blackness. Holliday waited until they were far enough away. “There is dark magic here, I can sense it. And, smell it.”

“Damp,” Waverly replied. “Like damp earth.”

“Sulphur. This pillar reeks of it.”

Waverly sniffed, smelling nothing, other than the musty smell of a damp, dark void. “Do you think whoever brought the earth and bones in is part of this?”

“I’m certain of it. Never encountered bone piles in any of my investigations, but those moving freely down here are up to no good.”

Lights appeared through the pillars, the sound of Mercedes’ voice echoing against stone explaining something to Jeremy. As they neared Waverly could see Jeremy now had hold of Mercedes’ folder nodding as she recounted yet another story about the history of the building. “Well, I must be going,” she said, shaking Jeremy’s hand, then the others. “So good to meet you all. Let me know if you need more information.”

As she made to leave, Waverly had one burning question. “What do you know about the hidden cup?”

Mercedes studied Waverly’s face for a moment, hesitant to say anything. “Sadly, that’s just a rumour, like the Grail at Rosslyn. No doubt conjured up to get more people to visit. Not the cup as such, the presence of Templar knights. Visitors flocked to churches in the eighteenth century that were linked to them.”

Jeremy escorted Mercedes out, Holliday holding back, careful not to speak his thoughts too loudly for fear the pillars would telegraph them to those he didn’t want to hear. “She’s lying, I can tell. She’s seen the cup. Or, knows of its existence.”

“You think so?” Waverly replied. “At least she filled in a few more of the blanks for us.”

Holliday shone his torch in Waverly’s eyes. “Do not trust so easily. We do not know this woman from Adam. It pays not to be so naïve.”

Waverly felt the sting in his words, remembering Nan’s observation in her tea leaves, remembering Nicole saying she knew Adam. _Mind you, this was Nicole,_ she thought, ever the one to tease. _God, I miss you my annoying demigod. Please come back to me._

They took a slow walk back to the house, Jeremy still in possession of the folder, eager to go through it, Waverly looking at it. “Just borrowing, I can be very persuasive if I want something. Mercedes has made detailed drawings I’m keen to study.”

“I’d also like to study that map,” Holliday said. “Too much going on down there for it not to be related to the warden’s murder.”

“My guess is Mercedes knows where the cup is. Or, was,” Jeremy said strolling alongside Waverly. “Sacred objects, holy or unholy, carry a resonance. They sing, or wail, depending on their purpose.”

“You can hear them?” Waverly asked.

Jeremy nodded. “The most beautiful of sounds if you have several holy objects together. A symphony. I would spend hours in the Vatican vaults listening to their angelic song. My father Apollo would occasionally come sit with me and listen. His hearing is even better than mine.”

Waverly had lost her train of thought. “Right. Sorry, what’s that got to do with the cursed cup under the cathedral?”

“I could hear something cursed has been there. An echo. Not an entirely unpleasant sound, like the wailing of lost sailors at sea. Lost souls, cast adrift. Quite sad really.”

“But…but, we’re talking demons here, right,” Waverly replied, trying to understand Jeremy’s sympathy for those contained in the cup. “As in, very nasty demons.”

“Oh, very nasty,” Jeremy stated. “Each with their own army at their command. We’re talking the lowest of lowlifes. The worst. Which is why they ended up in a cup. Well, crucible. Actually, more like a chalice.”

“You do realise you are letting your mouth run without your brain being in gear,” Holliday interrupted. “Whatever is in that cup needs to stay in that cup.”

“Oh, I agree,” Jeremy replied. “The question is, where is it now?”

\+ + + +

Nicole slowly opened her eyes, gazing across a dimly-lit space, attempting to work out where she was. She spied Nan sat in one corner, who met her gaze, smiling, putting her craftwork on the dressing table, easing herself out of the chair, moving towards the bed. 

“Hello, my dear. Welcome back.”

“Where am I? Nicole asked, unable to find a memory of the place she was in presently.

“A house in St. Albans. You were injured. What entered your body tried to poison you.”

Nicole sat up. “But…but, I live in Rome. At least, I think I live in Rome. Where am I again?”

“Not Rome,” Nan explained. “It will take some time for you to adjust to your surroundings.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Oh, just someone who came to help. Here, drink this. You’ll still feel a little woozy after what you’ve been through.”

Nicole looked at the glass being handed to her. A luminous green liquid, with some worm-like creature swirling at the bottom. She sniffed it, the aroma of apples hit her nose. “What’s this?”

“Just a tonic. A pick-me up. Don’t sip it. Drink it in one go.”

“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same. Where are my clothes?”

“Over there, with your knives.”

“My what? Why do I need knives? Who carries knives with them? Am I a chef?”

Nan laughed. “No, not exactly.”

Nicole stared at the drink once more, unsure of everything. A stranger, she had no recollection of, was telling her to drink something that looked highly suspicious. She held the glass to her nose once more, deciding she would try a little. The burn of the alcohol as it hit the back of her throat made her cough. “What is this? It’s foul. I need to leave. Where are my clothes?”

“On the chair, as I said. N, take your time. This will be odd for you until you get your bearings.”

“Sorry, who? Who’s N?”

“You, my dear. Your preference over your real name.”

“I’m…I think my name is Nicole. Why would I be N? No one has ever called me N. Look, I really need to leave.”

The door to the bedroom opened, Waverly standing silhouetted in the doorway, an older woman behind her. Their eyes met, Nicole wracking her brain to know whether she knew the person standing before her. “Oh, N,” Waverly said, rushing to the bed, throwing her arms round her. “It’s me. N, it’s me. Waverly. The girl you pulled from the canal. The girl you slept with at Nan’s.”

The shocked look on Nicole’s face told Waverly she recalled none of this. “I’ve never met you. I don’t know who you are.”

“N, please. I know you needed to forget us so the curse inside wouldn’t use us against you.”

“Sorry, what inside me?”

“The curse, trying to poison your mind. That’s why you can’t remember. Nan’s potion. The wound in your side. The cathedral. Please N.”

“I’m not N. Sorry, who are you?”

Waverly pulled away. “Nan, what do I do? Where is she?”

“Waverly, give it time. Nicole needs to find herself once more. There’s no need to rush this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Humphrey's body was preserved in alcohol for hundreds of years, rediscovered when work began on a new tomb in the cathedral. The cathedral took advantage of the interest in Humphrey allowing the public to take away a small vial of the liquid (for a fee). Rumour has it, the White Hart pub kept the liquid topped up as tourists visiting his tomb were good for the pub's business.
> 
> [Humphrey's Body](https://albanconversations.wordpress.com/2017/10/12/who-is-duke-humphrey-of-gloucester/)


	19. Sisterly Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly tries to explain her new life...

Nicole studied Waverly’s face. Pretty, very pretty. Petite, with a physical presence making her appear stronger. Certainly her type, if she had a type. If she could remember what her type was. A curious feeling of being drawn to her, eyes falling on her lips. Full, red, slightly open, ripe cherries ready to be tasted. Her body leaned in without conscious thought, her mind struggling with every piece of information being presented in a stranger’s bedroom. “How can you love me when I don’t know you?”

“Because, I do. I know you. I’ve seen you naked. I know you have a scar on the front of your right thigh, and a mark on your shoulder, below your collarbone. I know you were hit on your left side. I know your eyes glow violet when you drink Nan’s brew, amber when you want to show someone you love them.”

Nicole pulled the duvet back, looking at the scar. “It proves nothing.”

“No. Then tell me how I know your eyes glow.”

“They don’t. My eyes don’t glow.”

Nan was on hand to offer her reassurance. “Nicole, my dear, come sit in front of the mirror.”

Nicole eased herself out of the bed, alternating her gaze between Waverly and Nan, really wanting to leave wherever she was. Nan instructed her to take another sip of the drink still in her hand, then look at her reflection. As the liquid ran down her throat her eyes flashed a brilliant violet, the glass falling from her hand, the remainder of the drink trickling down her leg. “No, it’s a trick. There’s drugs in whatever you’ve given me. This is insane.”

“N, it’s not a trick. You’re a demigod, who fights demons and rescues those who call to your heart.”

“I’m a what? Please, whoever you people are, I need to leave. Where are my clothes?”

“N, tell me you love me. Just say it. Just once and see how your eyes change.”

“This is crazy. How can I love someone I don’t even know?”

“N. Look in the mirror and say you love me. That’s all I ask. You’re free to go after that.”

Nicole really wanted to leave. If all that was stopping her was saying this one phrase and finding her clothes, then so be it. She stared into the mirror, her eyes on Waverly. “Fine. I love you.”

There in the mirror was her reflection staring back at her, eyes glowing amber, fixing her to the spot. “I…I love you,” she repeated, the glow of her eyes becoming stronger. “But, I don’t know you.”

“I know,” Waverly replied. “But, your eyes betray what’s in your heart. N, I know this is all strange right now, but believe me, you are what we say you are. And, we need you. I need you. I’m really scared right now without you being here for me.”

“Right. Sorry, where are my clothes? I really need to go.”

“Go where?” Waverly snapped. “Where could you possibly go?”

Nicole looked at the three women. “Home. I just want to go home.”

“This is your home,” Waverly replied. “Well, the narrowboat is your home. You’re staying here, with me, to protect me.”

“Right. I live on a narrowboat. That’s novel. Look, I know you guys appear to know each other, but really, I’m not getting the whole vibe thing here. Just need my clothes. Can someone give me my clothes?”

Auntie handed over a pile of clothes and the two knives, Nicole staring at them, utterly confused, carefully placing the blades on the bed. “Could I possibly have another glass of that tonic you gave me? Bloody need it.”

“N!” Waverly exclaimed. “I’ve never heard you swear.”

“My apologies. Sorry, can I borrow you for a moment.”

Waverly followed Nicole outside, still looking confused, wondering which door led to the bathroom. Waverly guided her, closing the door behind them, sitting on the edge of the bath. Nicole could see the tears in Waverly's eyes. “I wish I could help you, but I can’t see how.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine," Waverly said, her voice quiet, resigned to her life being a complete and utter mess. She looked up. "Where will you go?”

“I have absolutely no idea. A narrowboat you say. Where exactly is this narrowboat?”

“The canal, where we met. Where you saved me from drowning.”

“I saved you. I wish I could remember.”

“You could stay here until you figure out what you want to do.”

“I couldn’t possibly. We’re strangers. It would be asking too much of you. Although, at this precise moment, I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing.”

“Trust me, we’re not strangers. Far from it. And, it's not putting me out. I owe you my life.”

“It's odd. There is something about you that's familiar. But, my mind’s foggy. Did we ever play chess?”

Waverly attempted a smile, failing. “No. I wanted to, but it was too dangerous. You would have killed me if you had won.”

“Oh. That’s rather high stakes. What if you had won?”

Waverly could feel the tears welling. “N, I want you more than ever. When I had you, I didn’t want you. And, now…I wish you were here with me. I’m so scared. And, lonely. I need your stupid humour. And, your stupid flirting. I just need you to be you again.”

Nicole placed the items she had in her hands on the floor, moving towards Waverly, reaching out, pulling her up, arms wrapping round her. “Hey. Don’t be scared. I’ll stay if that’s OK. Can’t promise I can help, but you clearly need whoever this N is right now. Not sure I’m any good with those knife things. They look terribly sharp.”

“Thank you. This means more than you can imagine.”

Nicole looked down at Waverly’s face, brushing a tear away from her cheek with her thumb. “This is so odd, but I have the strongest urge to…”

“What? What are you thinking?”

“Can I?”

“Can you what?”

Nicole placed her finger under Waverly’s chin. “This, I need to do this,” bringing their lips together in the softest kiss Waverly had ever experienced. 

As their lips parted Nicole’s eyes were glowing bright amber. She stepped back, enough to see the look on Waverly’s face. “Sorry, have we done that before?”

“Once. I’ve been dying to again. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Listen, I’d better get dressed.”

“Yes, sorry, of course. I’ll be outside. Thank you. You’ve saved me again.”

Jeremy and Holliday were busy studying the contents of Mercedes’ folder as Waverly entered the lounge the taste of Nicole’s kiss still on her lips, Auntie listening quietly to their discussion, nodding occasionally. Jeremy was in his element, his voice higher than usual, pointing out certain aspects from the map. “The older marks on the pillars are meant to mislead those who do not know the precise way. I’ve seen this before. Like a maze. One right path in, one out.”

“So, we found the right path in,” Holliday said. “That pillar stank of old magic.”

“Not necessarily,” Jeremy corrected. “It’s probably the right pillar, but from the wrong direction. I spotted other markings, lower down. I think they’re the ones we need to follow.”

Waverly gasped. “Only the humble can enter the kingdom. Fuck, sorry, that came out of nowhere. No, wait, the warden mentioned it on our first visit. I knew I’d heard it somewhere.”

Jeremy nodded. “You’re right. The eyes of the humble person are lowered, often they’re on their knees as a sign of respect.” He could see the confused look in Waverly’s eyes. “We see only what we see, until we see differently.”

“That’s what N said,” Waverly replied, wishing she was there with them, making some stupid comment.

“Settled. We need to go back underground again,” Holliday said. “I need to know if this pillar is linked to the warden’s death. Too many clues were left on, or near his body that shout dark magic. My guess is, whoever is marking the pillars under the cathedral has something to do with his murder.”

The three heard the front door open, a woman’s voice calling out. “Waves, I’m back. God, I so need a shower. Did you get my messages?”

Waverly rushed from the room, hugging her sister. “Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

Wynonna extracted herself from her sister, dropping her bag on the floor. “Mostly partying. I can’t remember ever drinking that much champagne. You got my messages right?”

“No. You sure you sent them?”

“Positive. Look,” Wynonna said holding out her phone for Waverly to check. “See, told you.”

“Who’s Wayne?”

“Oops,” Wynonna replied, grabbing the phone back. “Sorry, he’s one of the directors. Wondered why you kept replying with some random message. I’d better apologise.”

“So, you had a good time.”

“The best. They love the film. I’ve got a few days off. Thought you and I could do something together. Not get drunk. I’m done with drinking for like three days.”

Waverly hugged her sister again. “I love you. I so need you here right now. Everything’s a bit crazy.”

“You should have been at the party last night. Now, that was crazy.”

Auntie appeared from the lounge. “I’m making more tea.”

Wynonna stared at the woman, then Waverly. “Who’s she?”

“Auntie.”

“She’s not a relative.”

Waverly shook her head. “N’s auntie. Nan’s upstairs with N. DCI Holliday and Jeremy are in the lounge.”

“Okay. I’m not judging, but I’ve seen N and that other woman who dropped off her bag. Are any of these people normal?”

“Oh, none of them are normal. They’re either demigods, witches, or have gifts.”

Wynonna held Waverly’s shoulders. “Seriously dude, you need to stop smoking whatever it is you’re on. It’s affecting your brain.”

“I wish it was that simple. Come, let me introduce you to everyone.”

Waverly led the way, Holliday and Jeremy breaking off their conversation as Wynonna entered, Waverly spotting Holliday’s face as he saw her sister. “This is Wynonna, she’s over for a few days.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” the detective said, holding out his hand. “Holliday, John Holliday. I have seen you in a film with Matt Damon. I must say you’re prettier in person.”

Wynonna winked at Waverly, shaking his hand. “Why, thank you. And, from what Waverly says you are my real life counterpart.”

Holliday blushed. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m not as good looking.”

Auntie returned with mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits, Waverly dragging Wynonna outside. “Listen, N can’t remember who she is. The curse that entered her body was trying to poison her mind, could have killed me. It’s alright now. She’s over the worst.”

“That’s it,” Wynonna said, grabbing Waverly by the shoulders again. “Whatever shit you’re on, you’ve got to stop. You’ve let your house out to drug dealers, although the guy with the facial hair is kind of cute. But seriously, what is going on?”

Waverly removed sister’s hands from her shoulders, leading her upstairs. “I know, I freaked out at first. It’s all so different, but once you get the hang of it. Wait till you hear about the cursed cup and the key that’s not a key but a book.”

“I’m not getting the hang of any drugs. Baby girl, this is nuts. This isn’t you. You’re, you’re…”

“Beyond boring. Super cautious. Compulsively neat.”

“Right. Where’s that person gone? You don’t need to do drugs. That’s not going to help you.”

“I’m not on drugs,” Waverly insisted. “I plunged into another world and I’m so glad I did.”

Nicole was sitting on the bed, Nan talking to her, her third glass of tonic about to be consumed. She smiled at Waverly, not recognising Wynonna, taking a sip of Nan’s vodka, her eyes changing to violet. “What the…” Wynonna exclaiming, surprised by Nicole’s transformation. “No, no, no. Waverly, enough. This has got to stop.”


	20. Turn Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole doesn't remember, nor does Waverly...

“Wyn, it’s alright. It’s just Nan’s vodka. N’s eyes change colour when she drinks it. Amber’s the best.”

Wynonna shook her head. “I’ve spent the past few days hyping up the craziest story ever for a film and that wasn’t as crazy as what is going on in your house right now. And, there were a lot of drugs at the launch party, I’m telling you.”

“Nan, explain to my sister what’s happening. Or, do something to make her understand.”

Wynonna backed towards the door. “No one is touching me. And, I’m not drinking any of that…whatever that is that made your friend’s eyes glow. You hear me.”

Nan gathered up her knitting. “I can see you are worried for your sister and all that is going on. Tell me, what scares you the most?”

Wynonna stared at the old woman, half-minded to drag Waverly out of the house, go stay in a hotel until whatever drugs she was on had worn off. “I’m not losing her. She’s all I have.”

Nan nodded. “And, she feels the same about you. Waverly is not on drugs, you know that. Some things are hard to understand until our mind adjusts to a new reality. Come, sit with me. Let us get to know one another.”

Waverly could feel the resistance in Wynonna’s hand, not wanting to be dragged into whatever madness was going on right now in her sister’s house, curious as to who this old woman was. She edged towards the bed, still holding onto Waverly’s hand, eyeing Nicole suspiciously. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” Nicole said, offering Wynonna the glass, she shaking her head. “This is all new to me too. I’m supposed to be in Rome.”

\+ + + +

A solitary figure made his way on foot along the narrow cobbled street beside St. Peter’s Basilica, mingling with tourists, nuns and priests walking in long snaking lines come to hear the Pope speak that day to the gathering crowd. There was nothing exceptional about this person, male, mid-forties, smartly dressed if a little old fashioned, his one good hand soft, unblemished, the other encased in a black leather glove to hide its disfigurement. Had anyone taken the time to notice, or been curious, they might have wondered how a stonemason came to have such soft skin on his one good hand considering the type of work he supposedly performed. Then again, the incurious seldom do question others if they are convincing enough.

This lone male was all pretence, more a man of manuals and learning, than of manual labour. He hailed from a long line of academics, having spent years with teachers of the occult pouring over ancient scrolls and textbooks, extracting that which would benefit his quest to bring about a new world order. His family had been persecuted, abandoned by those they trusted, finding sanctuary in the quiet cloisters of academia, teaching theology to the ignorant, secretly laughing in the faces of their students. Behind closed doors they practised the old knowledge, carefully indoctrinating their eldest into their ways.

“Son, you are chosen,” Robert’s father would say to him, as he demonstrated their family’s dark secret. “You will bring about the change that is needed in this world. Too many of us have had our throats slit for the words we chant. You, you my beloved son will bring us victory.”

Robert’s father would roll up his own sleeve, making a long incision, letting the blood drip into a cup the boy watching as the wound healed before his eyes. Standing by the wall of their cellar, his father would dip his finger into the cup etching out the words Robert would come to see over, and over.

RURSUS CLAVEM

Robert remembered the first time he had seen his father write those words on the wall, wondering what they meant, why his father had used his own blood. “My beloved son, you are the key to our salvation. My blood is a trumpet call to all those who can hear it, that you, you Robert, my first born will lead the army.”

In time Robert would use his own blood to telegraph this message to his followers, professing himself to be the “Turn Key,” the one person who had within his knowledge the ability to unlock all those imprisoned because of their beliefs. That he, Robert Swan, firstborn of Josiah Swan would be the one to turn the key once more, opening the prison that had held all those demons for centuries. 

Robert entered St. Peter’s Square, cutting through people, heading to his destination. At the security gate he showed his academic pass, the guard letting him through, closing the barrier after him. Entering the main building, he headed for the lift to the lower level, checking his watch to make sure he wasn’t late. The lift doors opened, Robert confronted by a rather tall man in a monk’s robe, behind him four men dressed in black wearing leather gloves. “Welcome, welcome,” the priest said, leading the way. “So, glad to finally meet you.”

\+ + + +

Wynonna was warming to Nan, listening to her life story, Nicole equally enthralled. “I don’t do much now, given my age and these creaking bones of mine. Oh, to be young again like you, to be a watcher. Those were the days.”

“A watcher?” Waverly asked. “Of what?”

“The cathedral. There have been many attempts on it, knowing what it holds. Access to such power entices the foolish. The cult of Solomon, those sworn to avenge their chosen deities have tried to find the chamber. Foolish men in search of something they do not understand. Only old knowledge can reveal its whereabouts, since it was hidden with old magic.”

“Is that why you were watching it?”

Nan nodded. “Some of us are on the side of good, some not. Those who are not use their limited knowledge to feed the greed of many. That’s why the demigods are on hand, to help us when the darker forces grow too strong.”

“Who controls the mossbacks?” Waverly asked, still wondering what they wanted with her.

“Ah, mossbacks. Those who sold their souls long before they entered the soil. Lackeys not able to rest in peace, who haven’t passed over. Out to do the bidding of those who choose the darkest of magic as their way. Bringing someone back has its price, mind. One I’d not want to pay.”

“What price? And, who pays it?” Waverly persisted, her journalism skills kicking in.

Nan smiled. “Those who are prepared to pay it. A dark mark on the soul, so dark it cannot be erased. It never ceases to surprise me that there are those who would choose this, when so many other paths are open to them. But, fools rush in where angels fear to tread, as they say.”

Waverly paused. So many more questions rolled round her head, all fighting for answers. There was one pressing question, one above all others that kept returning. “What I don’t understand is why I can see them.”

Nan looked directly at Wynonna. “Do you want to tell her? About that day. The day Waverly went missing.”

Wynonna stared back, wondering how this old woman knew. She turned to her sister, seeing the confusion in Waverly’s eyes. “When Willa…when you. This is hard. I’ve not had to think about this for years.”

“Wyn, what? Tell me.”

Wynonna took Waverly’s hand. “You went missing with Willa. For a whole day. No one could find you. We searched everywhere. Then you showed up on the doorstep, unable to tell us where you’d been. All you kept saying was someone gave you warm milk and cookies.”

“I don’t remember,” Waverly said, shocked at the revelation. “Wyn, I don’t remember.”

“I know baby girl. We got you back, that’s all that mattered.”

“But, I don’t remember any of that,” Waverly continued, tears welling. “I don’t remember. Wyn, I don’t remember being with Willa. How can I not?”

“You couldn’t tell us where you’d been, or who had you. Or, what had happened to you. All you kept saying was milk and cookies. Over, and over.”

“You see,” Nan said. “Mossbacks are essentially guard dogs. They act on only one command. Attack demigods and anyone who has been touched by a demigod.”

The tears were streaming down Waverly’s face. “I don’t remember.”

“I know, my child. We thought it best if you didn’t know given what happened to your sister.”

“Wait. What the…” Wynonna said. “What about Willa?”

“N went back for her,” Nan began, Nicole sitting listening to her story without a clue as to what was about to be revealed. “She tried. She almost gave her life. The scar on her leg came from the fight to get your sister back. She so nearly succeeded.”

Both sisters stared at Nan, gripping each other’s hand. “They cornered her, overpowered her, locked her in a cell. It took us years to find where they were keeping her. Rumours of where she was being kept. Eventually Auntie received word of her location, managed to get her out.”

“She…she did that for us. For me.”

Nan nodded. “For you. It broke her heart she couldn’t rescue Willa. N’s only consolation was she saved you that day.”

“But, why? Why us?”

“Are you saying this N person stalked her?” Nicole asked. “That’s a little creepy don’t you think.”

Waverly wanted to hug N for eternity, knowing what she had sacrificed for her. “It’s fine. I like the fact you were there for me, watching out for me. I just wish I could remember what happened to Willa.”

“In time, my child. There is a lot to understand with the information I’ve given you. Now, shall we go see if there is anything to eat?”

“Wyn, can you give me a moment with N.”

Wynonna nodded, hugging her sister, following Nan out of the room. Waverly turned to Nicole. “Thank you, for whatever you did that day. For saving me, for trying to save Willa.”

“I wish I could remember. All I keep seeing is a house in Rome. This is all so strange. If I did do what this Nan claims I’m glad. I’m glad I saved you.”

Waverly put her arms round Nicole, burying her head in her shoulder. “I’ve never said this to anyone before, only Wyn and my parents. N, I love you with all my heart.”

As she gazed up, Nicole’s eyes were glowing amber. “And, I you, my precious, precious friend. I would give my life to know you could live.”

“N! Is that you? Tell me that’s you.”

“It’s me. Not sure for how long. Keep saying you love me that might help.”

“It’s you. I never thought I’d miss you. But, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you.”

“So, you’ve missed me. How much?”

“This much,” Waverly said, bringing her lips to Nicole’s. “And, this much,” bringing her lips to Nicole’s cheek. “And, this much, moving her lips to Nicole’s neck.

“I see,” Nicole purred, allowing Waverly to indulge her desires. “So, do we need to find a tent, or are you okay here?”

“Here. Definitely here.”

Waverly lay wrapped in Nicole’s arms, the most relaxed she had felt in years. She stroked a finger down the centre of Nicole’s naked body, glad to be where she was with the person who cared deeply for her. “I wish I could remember,” Waverly said, gazing up at Nicole who had her eyes closed, one hand under her head.

“I did everything I could to rescue your sister. There were too many of them. I should not have tried to tackle them alone. But, I heard your cry.”

“Where? Where were we?”

“By the cathedral. You were so young. I picked you up in my arms. By the time I’d hidden you, gone back for your sister, she was gone. Not a day goes by I don’t regret losing Willa.”


	21. Underestimating Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is good, who is bad...

“Hey, it’s okay,” Waverly said. “You did enough. You did what you could. It wasn't your fault, N it wasn't your fault.”

“I took you to Nan’s. You were terrified, so pale, so lost. My heart broke for you that day, knowing what you would have to live with. Nan wasn’t keen, but I’d seen what you saw. I knew you needed to forget, to not have it haunt you.”

“Did Nan give me something? I’m guessing that’s why I only remember milk and cookies.”

Nicole shifted onto her side, stroking Waverly’s face. “You wouldn’t take it at first. I made you laugh, read you a story from one of Nan’s books, the one you borrowed ironically. You must have recognised it somehow from when you were there.”

Waverly sat up. “It’s odd, the moment I walked into Nan’s kitchen, I knew I had been there before. It was so familiar, like nothing had changed. Even the cups she uses, all the same.”

“Nan’s not one for modernity. I offered to buy her a microwave, but she said she wouldn’t have that new magic in the house.”

Waverly laughed. “I’m not a big fan of microwaves either.”

\+ + + +

The evening of the warden’s death was like any other. The last service of the day had ended, the warden busying himself, making sure the cathedral pews were clear of psalm books and hymnals. A child had left its doll in one the pews towards the back of the church, the warden placing it on the table by the door, on top of church pamphlets and religious magazines, hoping whoever lost it would see it when they next visited.

He entered his office, switching on the light, busy reading a note from the cleaner shoved under his door. A complaint about a faulty tap in the men’s restroom that needed a plumber. As he placed the cleaner’s note on his desk he spied another note written on what appeared to be an old piece of parchment paper, yellowed with age, its edges frayed:

Dear Warden,

You have something of mine, I would like back. A penny, with a hole in its centre. If you would be so kind as to return it, I shall say nothing more on the matter. Please return from where you took it.

R

The warden stared at the note, wondering who had sent it, wondering why someone would go to all this trouble of writing him a note just for an old penny, a piece of metal with a hole in it. He felt in his pocket for the item, remembering he had given it to the journalist, believing it to be worthless. He had found other items under the cathedral, more valuable, certainly better preserved. It had been half-buried, his eyes only catching the coin as he stood contemplating why the earth and bones were there. 

He found the Dean at the pulpit, practising his sermon, pontificating on the evil in a sinner’s heart, waiting for him to finish. The Dean spied his audience of one, his voice becoming even more animated, his hand gestures more exaggerated, clearly enjoying the attention. The warden too enjoyed these performances, more lively than the last Dean who retired two years ago, the new Dean a breath of fresh air to the rather dull sermons of his predecessor.

The performance over, the Dean descended the small flight of stairs approaching the warden. “Do you think that will rouse the spirits in Sunday’s congregation?”

The warden nodded. “The devil will be driven out of them when they hear it.”

“Perhaps, although many prefer to dance with him.”

“I wonder if you could spare a few moments,” the warden said. “I have something to show you under the cathedral which is most peculiar. I believe we have more intruders.”

The Dean glanced at the warden. “Rats presumably. Blasted things. I know I’m a Godly man, but I’d kill every last one of them if I could.”

The warden laughed. “A little bigger than rats, I believe, although possibly with the same tastes. I’m thinking it’s related to the tunnels. I’m minded to have them sealed as a precaution. Stop whoever it is from entering that space.”

The Dean nodded. “It would be wise if you consider the space vulnerable. I have one phone call to make, then I will join you. If you could wait for me in your office.”

Closing the door to his office the Dean dialled Nedley’s number, waiting for him to answer. “I need your advice,” he said. “Charles is becoming suspicious of the activities, wants to close off the tunnels.”

“I told you to ban him from going under the cathedral,” Nedley replied, letting out a long sigh. “It draws attention to what we’re doing. As a Son of Solomon your priority is to the cup, not some church you pretend to run.”

“I know, I understand. It’s just, I didn’t think he would find it, given how far it is from the crypt door.”

“Really. Charles loves poking around down there. It’s his hobby. It was only a matter of time before he stumbled across something he shouldn’t. I suppose you want me to handle this.”

“It’s fine. I’ll handle it. It’s my problem. Do you know if the turn key has achieved his goal?”

“We’re holding the ritual this evening. We’ll make our way from the basement of the Cocks tavern to the cathedral, cast our eyes for the first time on the prized possession, if the turn key has been successful. A glorious day to be alive.”

“Indeed. A glorious day. One we shall tell our descendants the part we played.”

\+ + + +

Robert followed the monk to the entrance of the underground chambers, waiting as the heavy iron gate was unlocked, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. The party made their way down a long sloping corridor the temperature falling the further they went, that familiar damp smell permeating the air. Reaching another gate at the far end the monk paused, turning to Robert, smiling. “We are about to embark on a great journey, one that has long been awaited. One that has been prophesised. To think I will witness the key returned in my lifetime.”

“It is indeed an auspicious moment,” Robert replied. “You are fortunate to be able to bear witness to this event. One that will restore power to those from which it was unjustly taken.”

The monk led the way, burning torches now illuminating the long tunnel, their smoke blackening the ceiling. They entered a large chamber at the far end, its walls decorated with murals depicting demons, a central red panel on the far wall, the image of Satan emblazoned for all to see. Robert took a moment to absorb the evil energy of the room, beaming as he felt it enter his body. “Perfect. Simply perfect. You have done well to prepare this room. It will serve us well. Now we must wait for the time to be upon us, when the stars align to herald my ascension.”

“Everyone is ready,” the monk said. “Tomorrow at sunset we will gather together to witness the birth of a new era. The Age of Demonocracy.”

Robert laughed. “I like that. It’s catchy. You will have my requested items brought to this room one hour before the ritual. The cup is where I informed it would be in the vaults, the book, Solomon’s ring of protection and Emperor Nero’s crown.”

The monk looked confused. “I hadn’t realised Nero was part of this ritual. Of course, whatever you need will be provided.”

“Oh, Nero’s crown is my indulgence,” Robert smirked. “I simply want to wear it when I greet the demons. Let them to see I rule, as Nero ruled Rome.”

The monk nodded, leading the way out, his henchmen following behind. Robert entered the throng of visitors in St. Peter’s Square once more, stopping to buy an ice cream, gazing at the unsuspecting people laughing to himself. He knew he was going to enjoy what was about to happen, satisfied all his years of training, all his sacrifices, the sacrifices his family had endured had brought him to this moment. His moment. His destiny. His glory.

A new age was dawning, and he would rule as Solomon once ruled, as Nero had ruled. 

\+ + + + 

The Dean found the warden in his office, busy filing a stack of paperwork he had been meaning to tackle for weeks. He looked up as the Dean entered, smiling, moving to his desk. “What do you make of this,” he said, locating the mysterious letter on his desk, holding it out for the Dean to read.

“Odd,” the Dean replied. “Very odd. You have this penny that it mentions.”

The warden nodded. “Found it in the earth I was telling you about. Of no value. I suspect someone is playing a joke on me. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Indeed. A joke. Shall we go see this strange thing you say is under our feet.”

The pair marched off, the warden at the front, the Dean following a little way behind. On reaching the crypt door, the warden let them in, turning on his torch, heading to the spot where the earth was, standing before it, the light catching the odd piece of bone protruding from the mound. “See, this must be a joke too. I reckon someone’s playing an April fool’s on us. Except, it’s March. Still, there’s no other explanation for it being here.”

“No. No, other explanation,” the Dean replied. “Just someone playing with us. Do you have that old penny?”

“Fraid not,” the warden replied. “I gave it to that journalist woman when she visited. She was as surprised to see this as you and I. I’m hoping she’ll write about it in her article on the missing stonemason.”

A laugh rang out from the blackness encircling them. “Good Lord,” the Dean cried out. “Is someone here with us?”

The warden shone his torch, a pair of eyes caught in them, making him jump. “Who…who are you?” he demanded, his voice shaking as much as his hand. “I’ll call the police and have you arrested for trespassing.”

“Oh, will you,” the voice replied, a shadowy figure emerging, the warden gasping on seeing who it was. “Go on, call the police, call Nedley, see what he does. Go on, I’m waiting.”

“You can’t be here. We thought you’d vanished. We’ve been searching for you.”

“Didn’t look that hard, obviously,” the man replied. “Been here all along, working away.”

“But, but…you’re meant to be working on the gargoyles. There’s nothing down here for you.”

“Oh, but there is. Something far more important than gargoyles. Something your cousin knows all about.”

“My cousin,” the warden replied, taking a step back trying to process what he was being told. “What has my cousin got to do with this?”

The stonemason laughed. “You see, without your cousin’s help we, I would never have found the path to the treasure hidden right here in this very space. Such a useful member of our cult.”

“Cult. My cousin is in a cult. You must be mad, Mercedes would never join a cult, she’s…she’s not the type.”

“Oh, but she is. And, a very willing member of the sons and daughters of Solomon. She will be amply rewarded when the time comes.”

The warden shook his head, pulling out his phone. “This is crazy. I’m definitely calling the police.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know what I’ve found,” the stonemason said, watching the warden fumble with his phone. He loved fear, feeding on it. “I think you’ll be impressed.”

The warden lowered his phone, looking at the Dean. “This isn’t right. Whatever is going on down here isn’t right.”

The Dean smiled. “I know. It’s so wrong, it’s delicious. Come, let’s see what this stonemason chap has found.”

The warden stared in disbelief. “You’re…tell me you’re not involved in this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out there’s a secret vault under the Vatican: [Vatican Vaults](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N-CCNy9Qol4&t=135s)


	22. Very Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> G marks the spot...

“Oh, I’m very involved,” the Dean replied. “It’s taken years to get to this moment. Twenty to be precise. We were so close last time, but we are where we are. Fate would have it this is our time to bring back those who will pave a new way for us. The chosen.”

The warden turned on his heels, running as fast as he could towards the crypt door, desperate to get away from this evil place, his torch bouncing in his hand, hoping to reach the exit before the others caught up with him. A blow to his head sent him sideways, a ringing sound in his head as he lay winded on the ground, struggling to get up, his flashlight picking out two large men standing over him, dressed all in black wearing gloves, heads shaven. “Not so fast. You have something of ours.”

He was picked up like a rag doll, thrown over the shoulder of one of the foul-smelling men, carried back to where the Dean and the stonemason were waiting. “I’m disappointed,” the stonemason said. “I thought you liked archaeology. Bring him to the entrance.”

The mossback followed the stonemason as he spiralled his way towards the right pillar, dumping the warden unceremoniously on the ground. He struggled to right himself, rubbing his head, still dizzy from the blow he had received. The stonemason raised his right hand, opening his fingers wide, uttering a series of words the warden could not understand. And, there before them appeared an opening, large enough for one person at a time to enter. 

The stonemason entered first, the Dean holding out his hand telling the warden to go next, he following last. Down, down they went, emerging in a dimly lit chamber completely hidden from anyone who didn’t know the way in. The warden gasped. “The Templar knights. My word, this is the burial place of the three guardians of the cursed cup. I thought it was a myth, a rumour. It’s here. It’s really here.”

“It is,” the stonemason replied. “And, guess what’s in the top tomb.”

“No!” the warden exclaimed. “Can’t be. Is it?”

The stonemason beamed. “It is. Would you like to see it? But, first would you mind giving me back what you stole.”

The warden was too caught up in the moment to hear what the stonemason had said, edging nearer the top tomb. “I can’t believe I’ll see it. Will I be able to hold it?”

“Warden,” the stonemason shouted. “I need what you took from me. The coin, if you please.”

The warden snapped out of his reverie. “I…I don’t have it. I…I gave it to a journalist. I can get it back. She’ll give it back to me. I didn’t realise it was important.”

“You never do. Amateurs, poking their noses in. You took a life with that coin. One of my men had to return to the ground because you took his dirty penny. No matter, I’ll send my men to retrieve it from whoever this journalist is. Her life is now threatened by your ignorance.”

“No, I’m sorry. I really didn’t know. She has nothing to do with this. I swear. I gave it to her by mistake. I’ll get it back.”

“Too late,” the stonemason replied. “Circumstances have changed my mind. The time is upon us. I had hoped to spend a few more days in preparation. Dean, be a good chap and summon the others. I will perform the ritual tonight.”

\+ + + +

Jeremy prodded the map with his finger. “Got it. That’s the route in. That Mercedes was a clever minx thinking she could mislead us. We’ll need Nan to access whatever is hidden. I’m guessing we’re too late, but we need to check for ourselves.”

Xavier placed a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “I wish I could be there with you. I’ve long wanted to see the place of my possible imprisonment, purely out of curiosity.”

Jeremy patted his hand. “I’ll take a photo if it’s still there.”

The group walked the short distance to the cathedral, Holliday unlocking the side door, waiting for everyone to enter, following in last. Flashlights ready, they headed for the crypt, Holliday doing the honours once more, everyone filing into the void, waiting for Jeremy’s instructions.

He shone his flashlight across the pillars, studying the map one more time. “This way, keep together, don’t via off the path.”

Waverly squeezed Nicole’s hand. “I’m excited and scared at the same time.”

“I’m rather horny,” Nicole replied. “I’m so creating one of these creepy pillar places in my dream world. It’s kind of working for me.”

Waverly giggled, her nerves eased a little, Wynonna wondering what had become of her little sister. 

They made their way along the path Jeremy had assessed was the correct way in, stopping at the final pillar, waiting for Nan to catch up. “I wish I was younger. Right, yes this feels right. Strong magic, ancient, whoever was here knew what they were doing. Everyone stand back, give me room to do my job.”

Nan raised both hands, spreading her fingers wide, lowering her head, repeating words to open the chamber. A low rumbling sound filled the void, a slight tremor under their feet as the pillar before them uncurled itself forming a set of stairs leading down to a lower level. The stench of rotting flesh hit them, Waverly putting her hand over her mouth to stop herself from puking, Wynonna turning her head away. “Fuck, what is that smell?” she said, trying to rid it from her nostrils. “I’m not going anywhere that smells that bad.”

Nan lowered her hands. “I believe someone has been here before us, by the smell. Come, we do not have long. The entrance will close if we do not hurry.”

She began to descend, holding a cotton hanky over her mouth and nose to stem some of the putrid smell, mixed with a tinge of sickening sweetness, emanating from this godforsaken place. A rotting piece of meat, with a couple of drops of cheap perfume splashed over it, would be halfway to understanding what a human corpse left for a few days smells like. Reaching the bottom, she shone her torch into the chamber below. “It’s safe. You can follow,” she shouted up, Nicole going next, Holliday, then the rest. 

“Well, I think we’ve found the other half of the warden,” Holliday said, his hand over his mouth to stop him puking as he spied the lower half of a man’s body lying on a stone slab at the far end of the room. 

Nan raised one hand, uttering a series of words, the air clearing of the stench. “Never thought I’d have to use that piece of magic,” she said, lowering her hankie. “Well, that’s certainly an improvement.”

The others followed, Waverly grabbing Wynonna’s hand as she spied the remains of the warden. There were three stone coffins in the space, Waverly rubbing dust from the top of the nearest one, reading the inscription. “It says here lies a true knight. God’s crusader. May he protect us in death as in life.”

“Didn’t protect the warden,” Wynonna said, trying not to retch at the sight. “Fuck, that poor man.”

Nicole had joined Holliday and Nan at the top tomb. “So, do you reckon the cup is in this one?”

“It would appear so,” Holliday replied, pointing to the carving in the stone. “The knight is depicted as holding one in his hands. Help me lift the warden off so we can open the top.”

Nicole looked at Holliday not relishing the thought of picking up the naked bottom half of a rotting corpse. “Would you mind if I take the feet. I’m not partial to the other end.”

“Suit yourself,” Holliday replied, moving into position, waiting for Nicole to grab the warden’s feet. “On three.”

The body removed, Nan once more lifted her hands, chanting words, the heavy stone top shifting a little, Nan’s voice growing louder the words tumbling from her mouth. Slowly the stone lifted, hovering in the air no more than a foot above the main coffin. Nicole looked inside, shaking her head. “Gone. It’s not there.”

Holliday peered inside, studying the skeleton of a man dressed in Templar uniform, his hands still in position where he would once have held the cup. “So, what do we do now?”

Nan let the stone top fall with a thud. “Gosh, that was heavier than I expected. Are you sure it’s not inside. Did you look everywhere?”

“Everywhere, definitely not there,” Nicole replied, turning to Jeremy. “Question is, are you correct in your theory. If it’s not here, is it there?”

Jeremy shrugged. “I can’t be certain, but if Solomon’s key hasn’t left the Vatican, there’s no other place they would be able to open it.”

“Okay, so hear me out,” Wynonna said. “The cup’s gone, right. But, to open this cup you need the key. Or, do you? I mean could someone jot down the words and take the cup somewhere else?”

Jeremy shook his head. “The key is the key, not the words. The key has to be present on opening the cup, hence why its call the key, not the words.”

“Fine. I get it. The key is important, not the words inside. You know, if they made a film of this everyone would be so fucking confused they’d leave.”

Nicole grinned. “Apart from us. We’d stay. I wonder who would play me. Brie Larson perhaps.”

“Scarlett Johansson,” Waverly said. “Although, she’s shorter than you.”

“No, Scarlett would be better playing you,” Nicole replied. “Who would play me? Let me think.”

“Guys, do you think you could focus on the matter in hand,” Jeremy interrupted. “We’re kind of up against time here. This is a bit more pressing than who’s going to play you in a film.”

“There’ll be a part for you,” Nicole offered. “The brainy geek, with thin legs.”

“My legs are not thin,” Jeremy snapped. “They’re perfectly in proportion to the rest of me.”

“We have to get to Rome,” Holliday said, realising everyone was getting distracted. “But that will eat into our time. We don’t know how long we have.”

Nan brought out her watch on a fob. “By my reckoning we have under five hours. The planets will be aligned this evening.”

Everyone stared at Nan, then each other, Nicole the first to speak. “Right, so hopping on a plane is out of the question, requesting an audience with the Pope will take time, which leaves us with only one option.”

Jeremy shook his head. “You don’t know where it leads. It could be a trap. The one who used the stairs last may have rigged it so no one could follow.”

Waverly had her hand up. “For those of us who have no idea what you’re talking about, could you explain in simple terms what you’re talking about.”

Nicole turned to Waverly, attempting a smile. “Well, remember I showed you that a G is not only a G.”

“Yes, and…”

“Look behind you.”

Waverly turned to see a large G etched into the wall. “It’s a G.”

“Yep. It’s a G.”

“N, you can be really annoying sometimes. What’s that got to do with getting to Rome? No, wait, you’re not saying. How? Okay, magic. But, seriously, how?”

“Nan will open it for us. A bit like the pillar, except…”

“Except, what?” Waverly demanded. “N, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me.”

“Right, so we won’t actually know where it leads until we use it. Still, saves packing a case and finding my passport.”

“You have a passport. Why would you have a…stop it. Is it safe?”

“Safe-ish. I’ll go first. If you hear me screaming don’t follow.”

Waverly giggled. “I hate you, you know that.”

“You don’t. You love me. Remember.”

“No PDA’s while we’re trying to save the world,” Wynonna interrupted. “So, who’s going?”


	23. Waverly's Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly finds a new bravery as events unfold...

“We could do with Xavier’s help seeing we are probably going to be up against quite a few demons,” Nicole said, blowing a kiss to Waverly. “Getting him here will be a problem though. He can’t enter the cathedral, it’s forbidden.”

“No. But, he can enter a pub,” Waverly replied. “He can join us via the Fighting Cocks tunnel. Jeremy what if you and I go fetch him, bring him back. We shouldn’t be more than an hour tops.”

“And, Aunty,” Nicole added. “We might need her skills. Oh, you had better bring Ros and Robin too, otherwise they’ll only moan we didn’t invite them. Plus, they’re good for a fight. Right, this seems like a really dangerous and impossible plan, let’s do this. Team D. Yay, go team D.”

“You really have to work on your pep talks,” Waverly said, kissing Nicole on the cheek. “Back here in an hour.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Nicole asked, suddenly nervous letting Waverly out of her sight given what was happening around them. “Or, I can go. I’ll be quicker. On second thoughts, you stay here, I’ll go. Which way is out?”

Waverly rolled her eyes. “I am perfectly capable of getting the others with Jeremy. Stay here, keep my sister company.”

Nan was the last out, the pillar slamming shut behind them, the remaining party hovering by the entrance waiting for the others. Wynonna pulled Nicole to one side. “How dangerous will this be?”

Nicole contemplated the question. “On a scale of one to ten, I reckon four hundred.”

“That settles it. Waverly stays behind with me. I’ll keep her from following you. I don’t want her put in any danger.”

“And, how do you propose to keep her from coming with us?”

“I don’t know. Get Nan to do that hokus pokus thing. I can’t take the chance of losing her.”

“She’ll be with me. I’ll protect her. I promise.”

“N, you nearly died. You nearly killed Waverly with whatever was inside you. She’s all I have.”

“I understand. She is all I have too. I will protect her with my life.”

Wynonna shook her head. “N, please don’t fuck this up. She thinks this is all some kind of thrilling adventure. I don’t think she realises how dangerous all this is. She thinks you’ll protect her because of who you are. And, we all know that might not be true.”

Nicole walked away, finding a pillar, slumping to the ground. Wynonna was right, after the incident in the cell, she no longer was sure of herself. The demon curse inside had nearly caused her to strangle the person she loved. It terrified her to think how close she had come to losing her for a third time. A moment more and her whole life would have been destroyed by her own power.

Holliday sat beside Nan, she knitting away in silence, he holding his torch out to provide light. “My mother knew your ways,” he began, adjusting his back against the pillar. “She taught me some, but she didn’t want me to follow in our family ways.”

Nan continued knitting. “Very wise. It has its uses and its burdens. You have a question, I can see. Ask it.”

“Why was the warden killed in that way?”

Nan stopped knitting, resting the needles on her lap. “He knew too much. He saw too much. Did you see the top part of the body?”

Holliday nodded. “Autopsy. Clean cut. No other injuries.”

“And, the eyes. Did you see his eyes?”

“His eyes were fine. Intact.”

“Were they. Perhaps you didn’t look closely enough. You and I both know this place reeks of more than a corpse. It will have left an impression in his eye. If I were you I would go check that body again. Stare deep into the warden’s eyes and tell me what you see.”

“And, what will I see?”

“His last moments before death.”

Nan picked up her knitting, the clicking sound of her needles echoing in the darkness surrounding them. 

\+ + + + 

Robert sat in his apartment, sipping a mint tea, gazing out over Rome from his window. In a few hours all of this would be his, all his. His one regret, his father unable to be there to see him as he had seen him right from when he was a young boy. It was not meant to be. He had forfeited his own life to ensure his son achieved all he believed he was destined to achieve. 

He studied the two suits laid out on the bed, both designer, the best cloth available, Italian, deciding the midnight blue would be the more pleasing to wear for his special moment, more complimentary to his pale complexion. It would also go with the leather glove he was now forced to wear in public, the withered fingers on his left hand a sign of the dark magic he had performed to bring dead men back to life. Each finger representing a life. “No more than five,” his father had instructed. “One hand, no more.”

“But, father, what good is five when I can have ten?” he asked, earning a clip round the ear.

“Foolish boy. What good is ten, when you do not have one good hand to perform magic?”

“If we can bring back those willing to return from the dead, why can’t we spare our own hands?”

His father contemplated this honest question from his young son, patting him on the head. “A worthy enquiry. Our magic has a price to be paid. We pay it, or we suffer the consequences.”

Robert had seen the payments exacted on his father’s body. One useless hand, one eye blind, scars so deep on his back he could put his finger in all the way to the cuticle. Easy enough to hide as war injuries, his father’s colleagues at the university oblivious to the fact the man who proclaimed to have been injured in the war had not set foot abroad in his entire life. 

Standing before the mirror, his new white cotton shirt set off by a black tie, his suit fitting to perfection, Robert looked every bit the Italian businessman, come to do the deal of a lifetime. A pair of designer sunglasses completed the outfit and his customary soft leather gloves, he left his apartment a little after three, strolling along the main street, taking in the sights and sounds of a bustling city about to be his.

At the entrance he showed his pass once more, the guard allowing him through, smiling as if to say he knew what was about to happen. Robert smiled back, nodding his head, complimenting the guard on his choice of aftershave in perfect Italian. The guard bristled with pride, winking, replying his was free later. Robert made a mental note of the guard’s face, smiling once more before proceeding on his way.

The monk was waiting as the lift stopped at the lower level. “We have everything in place. Most of the invited are waiting in a room nearby. There’s only one no show, so far. A Mister Elon Musk sends his apologies.”

“Does he now? A pity. Still, I’m sure he will be more accommodating after this evening.”

They made their way to the chamber, guards standing to attention outside the door, the monk nodding as they approached. Inside the room, rows upon rows of chairs were laid out, a rectangular block of grey marble supported on two granite stones at the far end to make a kind of altar, the bronze chalice and Solomon’s book the only items on display. “Where’s my crown and ring?” Swan asked, his voice betraying his annoyance at their absence.

“We have those ready,” the monk replied, not wanting to offend Swan. “May I say, your choice of crown is most apt. I can have them brought here if you wish.”

Swan nodded, the monk scurrying off to get the required items, returning a few moments later. Swan took the crown from the monk’s hands, feeling its weight, admiring its simplicity, relishing the thought of wearing it once the demons proclaimed him their king. It was too much of a temptation, lifting it up, placing it on his head, wishing he had a mirror to see himself. Taking out his phone, he handed it to the monk. “Would you mind taking a photo of me?”

The monk looked a little shocked as he took several photos, Swan inspecting each, asking if he could take a few more with better lighting, the monk obliging. Removing the crown, handing it back to the monk, he placed Solomon’s ring on the little finger of his right hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing it, reciting the incantation to activate its protection. The ruby stone in the centre glowed a deep red, the outline of a snake’s eye appearing, Swan smiling at its beauty.

He approached the faux altar, bowing, his hands joined together as if in prayer. “I would like a moment alone, please.”

The monk scurried away to announce the arrival of Swan to the assembled guests, the hour fast approaching when the darkest of magic would be performed under the very heart of the Vatican. 

\+ + + +

The others had arrived back, Xavier tugging at his collar clearly uncomfortable at being within the walls of a sacred place. “Better make this quick in case I go up in a puff of smoke,” he said.

“Still might,” Nicole reassured him. “We have no idea where this gate leads. If it’s the Vatican…”

Xavier took in Nicole’s words. “I’ll take my chances.”

Nan stood before the pillar once more, reciting the opening incantation, the stones parting to reveal the entrance. Once inside, the others stood waiting for her to reveal the new stairs to wherever they led, Xavier pensive, Waverly gripping Nicole’s hand, Wynonna wondering if she should take Holliday’s. Nan’s words echoed round the small chamber, her hands outstretched, her eyes closed. The letter on the wall glowed, growing larger, beginning to spiral like a Catherine wheel firework nailed to a post. Faster and faster it spun, Waverly having to close her eyes for fear of becoming dizzy. 

A rushing sound nearly deafened them as the gate opened, a gust of wind knocking Nan back, her hands only just remaining outstretched as she fought to keep her balance. “I don’t know how long I can keep it open,” she shouted. “If you’re going to go you need to go now. I’ll hold it open for as long as I can.”

“Are you not coming with us?” Nicole asked. “How will we get back?”

“Wherever you come out, there will be an identical sign. Remember its location. When you need to return, place your hand on it. I’ll wait here for you.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Robin said. “In case someone gets through.”

“Waverly stays too,” Nicole ordered, letting go of Waverly’s hand. “This fight is not yours.”

“Don’t you dare do this to me. I’m coming too. I’ve not come this far to be left here with a stinking body. And, if you think you can order me around, you’ve got another thing coming N.”

Nicole held up her hands. “It was your sister’s idea. Said you wouldn’t like it.” Nicole looked at Wynonna. “I tried.”

“Waverly, please for me,” Wynonna said. “Let Nicole go do this. If anything happens to you.”

“And, what if something happens to N. What then?”

“Fine,” N said. “Stay close to me. Don’t do anything stupid. Try not to get yourself killed.”

“Ditto,” Waverly replied.

“I won’t be able to hold it open much longer,” Nan said, struggling against the force of the air pouring from the opening. “Can whoever is going go, now.”

Xavier led the way, stepping onto the first step, testing its weight, disappearing as he took the next step. Nicole gripped Waverly’s hand, winking at her. “Whatever happens don’t let go. Ready.”


	24. Xavier's Dilemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The race is on to save the world...

Waverly felt her arm being pulled towards the opening, her right foot hitting the first step, Nicole’s body vanishing before her eyes apart from her hand, of which she still had a tight hold. She desperately wanted to close her eyes, reach the other side in one piece, hopefully alive, her whole body shaking whether through fear or the sensation of moving through whatever she was moving through she no longer knew. Nicole’s voice was reassuring, telling her to breathe, to keep hold of her hand. _This is like being underwater,_ she thought, as she moved through the portal. _Like walking on the bottom of a pool, except I can breathe. It’s quite fun._ Another tug on her hand she emerged in a new space, equally dim, not smelling of rotting bodies, which was a bonus.

“Where are we?” she asked, looking back at the opening, Wynonna emerging holding Holliday’s hand, Jeremy following, then Auntie, finally Rosita. 

“Not a clue,” Nicole replied. “But, Xavier hasn’t combusted, so that’s a bonus. I reckon somewhere in the Vatican, although not a sacred space.”

Jeremy gathered them round. “We’re in the Vatican vaults, which I kind of assumed is where this portal would come out given the cup was gone. Now, the question is where is it?”

“Do we spread out and look for it?” Nicole asked, Jeremy rolling his eyes. 

“There are miles and miles of vaults, not to mention all the store rooms where the precious artefacts are kept. It would take us months. No, we have to think strategically. The cup and the book will be somewhere else, I simply have to tap into the computer system and check.”

Nicole sniggered. “Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t think whoever stole the cup is going to leave a message on the Vatican computer to tell us where it is.”

“Old-fashioned,” Jeremy replied. “Every item in the vaults carries an identification code and a tag, which is logged in the system. All I have to do is see what’s gone out recently and where it is. That should lead us to the bad guy, or girl.”

“Damn, you’re good,” Rosita said, smirking at Nicole who poked her tongue out, earning an elbow from Waverly.

Jeremy keyed in his security clearance number, bringing up the relevant screen scrolling through the entries. “There. Solomon’s Lesser Key was removed this morning, along with Nero’s crown and, oh fuck Solomon’s ring. Whoever has these knows what they’re doing.”

“Where are they now?” Xavier asked, looking around feeling decidedly uncomfortable about now being this close to the Vatican.

“It says they haven’t left the Vatican. They’re close. One level down. But that area is closed to everyone. Even my pass won’t gain us access.”

“What’s down there?” Xavier pressed.

Jeremy’s expression had changed, eyes betraying the worry at what might be occurring beneath their feet. “It’s rumoured there are rooms, dating from ancient Rome where others were worshipped. Demons and…”

“And…Jeremy, we’re going down there,” Xavier said. “Whatever’s down there you might as well tell us.”

“And, the Angel of Darkness.”

“Wait,” Waverly said. “We’re in the Vatican right. So, why are there rooms for worshipping demons?”

“Because,” Xavier replied. “The world isn’t black and white. Good and bad are sometimes a matter of perspective.”

“We can have a philosophical debate after we get that cup back,” Holliday interrupted, looking around for a door. “Jeremy, do you know the way?”

“Yes, but as I said, I don’t have access to that area.”

“We don’t need permission,” Holliday replied, pulling out his gun. 

Jeremy led the way, the others following, hoping there wouldn’t be too many to fight, Nicole making sure Waverly was behind her, holding her hand as they headed towards their own destinies. At the main door to the vaults, Jeremy pressed his hand against the pad, the door opening, Nicole about to make a smart ass comment, her mouth opening, Waverly glaring at her. “Well, it does look like something from Star Wars,” she whispered, Waverly giggling, Auntie shushing them.

Along several more corridors, down a flight of stairs, they emerged into an area, a set of wooden doors opposite, the sound of a large group of people talking and laughing from within. “I reckon whatever is happening, these people are on the guest list,” Holliday whispered.

“From drawings I’ve seen, I think the chambers are off to the left,” Jeremy informed. “I’m guessing the party hasn’t started yet, which means there’s still time.”

He moved off, Auntie catching him up. “I have an idea. If I go first, check out what’s happening, we’ll have a better chance of surprise.”

“Good thinking,” Jeremy replied. “But, hurry. We don’t want to be caught loitering if those in the room start to move.”

Auntie closed her eyes, imagining the form she needed to take, the outline of her body becoming blurry. Waverly squeezed Nicole’s hand. “N, what’s happening? What’s Auntie doing?”

“She’s shape shifting. It’s pretty cool. Wish I could do that.”

No sooner had she finished speaking Auntie had transformed into a rat, scurrying off at speed, disappearing round the corner. Holliday spotted a door in the corner, ushering the others into a store cupboard, using his phone to light the space. “Well this is cosy,” Wynonna said, easing herself up against the inspector. “I’ve had worse dates.”

He blushed, trying to move his body away, pushing Nicole into Waverly. “Not as good as a tent, but I’ll take it. We’ve got time.”

Waverly dug her in the ribs. “Cool down. We’re about to meet an uncertain fate and that’s all that’s on your mind.”

Nicole grinned. “Pretty much. If only we were alone.”

“Guys, guys,” Jeremy whispered. “Not the time, or the place. Can we all stay focused on the task please?”

Rosita was getting restless. “What if I rush whoever is down there?” 

“No one is rushing anyone,” Xavier whispered. “Zero casualties. This isn’t the O.K Corral. And, we don’t know who’s down there. Let’s wait for Auntie and see what we’re facing.”

“Fine. But, I’m using my knives if anyone comes at me.”

The door opened, Auntie standing before them, hands on hips. “I could hear you down the corridor. Honestly, so much for being discreet. There’s two mossbacks keeping guard outside the first gate, another two by a door to what must be where they will hold whatever they’re planning to hold. If we take out the first two guards we should be able to get into the room.”

Rosita had her knives out. “Let’s do this. I’m in the mood for a fight.”

Nicole extracted her blades, turning to Waverly. “This is not for you. You and Wynonna need to stay here. I can’t fight and look out for you. As soon as we have the cup I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

Waverly looked at Nicole. “I know I can’t fight, and I know the last time I came with you I nearly got you killed. You promise not to do anything really stupid.”

Nicole grinned. “When have you ever known me to do anything stupid? Don’t wait up honey.”

“I’m so not looking forward to this,” Jeremy said, following Nicole, Xavier and Rosita out, Auntie guiding them along the corridor.

Auntie motioned that the guards were just around the next corner, Xavier drawing his knives, nodding at Nicole. She calmly moved to the front of the group, striding out ahead disappearing round the corner. “Hi guys. I’m lost. Could you tell me where the party’s at?”

The mossbacks saw her knives, baring their teeth growling at her like wild dogs. “You’re not welcome here demigod.”

“But, I have an invite. See,” Nicole replied, holding up her knives, whistling to the others. “And, so do my friends.”

The others appeared, liking their chances, Auntie having transformed into a grey wolf, snarling back at the men blocking their path. Making swift work of the two, Jeremy pushed open the gate, Xavier dragging the bodies along the corridor with them, a trail of blood left in their wake. Nicole was again at the front, confident they had only two more guards to take out, walking on ahead. 

As soon as they were spotted the guards charged, Rosita taking one out immediately with a thrust to the heart, Nicole taking the other down removing his heart, pocketing it. A pile of bodies now lay outside the door, Xavier opening it, peering inside. “It’s empty. I’ll go in, check it out, you keep guard.”

Xavier disappeared inside the others waiting for him, Nicole wiping blood from her hand. “Must remember to bring hand wipes with me next time. Always so messy.”

Rosita was removing the hearts from the three other mossbacks. “It’s the smell I can’t stand. I’m thinking air freshener. You know that floral one.”

“The coconut one is better,” Nicole commented. “Floral just reminds me of their damp smell.”

“What’s keeping X?” Holliday said, not wanting to be part of the current conversation.

“It’s too quiet,” Nicole said, her head against the door. “I’m going in.”

“We all go,” Auntie growled. “Ros, go last.”

Holliday opened the door, leading the way, gun at the ready. Xavier was standing with his back to them, not moving, a man in a midnight blue suit motioning for them to come forward. “Come, come, so glad you could join us. What a pleasure to meet you all.”

Nicole had her knives ready, looking round the empty room, wondering why Xavier wasn’t moving. “X, you okay?” she shouted.

“Don’t come any nearer. It’s a trap.”

The others stopped, no longer sure how to proceed, the cup within their reach. The man moved round the marble altar, folding his arms leaning against the front. “Dear me, what a pickle. I suppose you thought you could waltz in, take what is mine, ruin years of preparation.”

“That was kind of the plan, yes,” Nicole replied. “If you wouldn’t mind giving us the cup, freeing our friend, we’ll be on our way.”

“Come and take it then,” the man replied. “It’s all yours.”

Nicole approached, Xavier desperately trying to move, no longer able to speak, the man holding his finger to his mouth. “Don’t spoil it. I want to see what happens.”

Nicole knew this too was a trap, hesitating, turning to look at the others. Before she could move, Auntie had rushed past leaping onto the altar grabbing the cup in her mouth. No sooner had her teeth gripped it, she was flung across the room. “No, I want you to take it,” the man said, smiling at Nicole. “Come along. It won’t bite.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Nicole yelled.

“Robert,” he replied, picking up the cup, placing it back on the altar. “First born of Josiah. A black swan and now about to be proclaimed king of the demons.”

Nicole smirked. “Here’s the thing Richard, whoever you are, first born of this Jeremiah person, I know if I touch that cup something bad will happen.”

“Do you not trust me, daughter of Eros? Come, take the cup. It’s right here waiting for you.”

Nicole turned to Jeremy. “If I don’t make, you know what to do.”

Jeremy nodded, Rosita standing ready to attack. Nicole turned to Holliday. “Shoot me if you have to.”

She turned to face Swan. “I really, really hate surprises. So, if you’ve put frogs in that cup I’m going to be pissed.”

“You’re very amusing,” Swan replied. “No, no surprises. Come, take it.”

Nicole edged forward, knives at the ready, passing Xavier who remained motionless, his eyes telling her not to do what Swan was inviting her to do. She shrugged, knowing she had no other option, reaching the marble altar, standing before the cursed cup about to take it in her hands. “I’ve changed my mind,” she said, knives still at the ready. “I think I’ll kill you instead.”

“Really,” Swan smirked. “Be my guest. No really, go ahead.”


	25. Yield Demigod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Nicole annoy Swan...

Nicole launched at Swan, her body easily swatted away like a fly, Swan smirking as Nicole made a second lunge, then a third. Holliday aimed his gun, hoping to get a clear shot of this irritating guy, unable to do so with Xavier in the way and Nicole’s rapid movements. He held his position, knowing if the opportunity came he would take it, dispatching Swan to hell. 

Nicole slowed her movements. “Fine. I’ll just take the cup then, if you won’t let me kill you.”

“Tired so soon. We can keep this up all day. Well, not all day, I have this world to conquer. Make up your mind. Do you want to kill me, or take the cup?”

“Decisions, decisions,” Nicole replied. “Okay, I’ll go with taking the cup please and if you have a microwave you could throw in.”

Swan gestured with his hand for Nicole to proceed, watching as she returned her knives to their sheaths, her right hand outstretched once more, about to grab it. The sound of the door opening distracted her, watching in horror as Waverly and Wynonna were marched in by two more mossbacks, Waverly doing her best to wriggle free. “Let me go, you…you. Fucking get your hands off me.”

“If you harm my sister,” Wynonna yelled. “You’ll have me to deal with. And, these people.”

“Ah, more guests. How splendid. Do join us, we’re getting to the interesting part.”

The mossbacks let the sisters go, shoving Waverly in the back, the pair moving closer to Ros and Jeremy. “What’s going on?” Waverly whispered to Jeremy, looking directly at Nicole who was shaking her head, making eye movements for the others to escape.

“Not good,” Jeremy replied. “This Robert Swan, the missing stonemason, thinks he’s going to take over the world by unleashing demons. It’s not that simple. That’s why Solomon kept them locked up. Why does nobody ever learn from history?”

“Because,” Waverly replied, her voice remaining low. “Those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it.”

“When you’ve quite finished,” Swan interrupted, staring at Waverly, waiting for her to be quiet. “Where were we? Yes, Eros’ daughter is about to find out what powers I have at my disposal.”

Nicole had changed her mind again. The presence of Waverly in the room had altered the odds against her, hoping to use Jeremy and Rosita to do something, anything that might give them a slight advantage over this madman. She no longer had control over the room, or Waverly’s safety. She lowered her hand.

“Will you just take the fucking cup,” Swan yelled. “I don’t have all day. And, all of you are beginning to annoy me.”

“Peeve.”

“Pardon.”

“We peeve you,” Nicole repeated. “You’re a little peevish.”

Swan lifted his right hand, swiping it in the air, sending Nicole flying against the back wall, landing heavily. “You think you’re better than me, demigod,” Swan roared. “You think who you are gives you the right to lord it over us mortals. I hate your kind. I loathe you. I could so easily rip your heart out with my bare hands, simply for the satisfaction of watching you die before me.”

Waverly went to say something, Wynonna holding her back. “Patience,” she whispered. “Not yet.”

Nicole lay winded on the ground, auntie beside her, a trickle of blood coming from her mouth. “No, Sophia, no,” Nicole said, shaking her. “Please, please, I need you. Not now, not like this.”

She could hear Swan laughing. “Ah, poor doggie. What a shame. Still, one less for me to deal with. Now, take the cup, or I’ll make you.”

Nicole hauled herself up. “I’d like to see you try,” she smirked, bracing herself for the next attack.

It came swiftly, Swan outstretching his right hand, muttering words, Nicole suddenly feeling a force stronger than she had ever felt pushing her back, back against the wall, her lungs struggling to breathe, unable to break free of the crushing weight against her chest. The more she struggled, the greater the force applied, no air able to enter her lungs. She could see Waverly, the look in her eyes telling her she was terrified, about to witness the death of her demigod. With one small breath, she whispered. “Father, please.”

“Oh, he’s not coming,” Swan sang. “He’s so not coming. He hasn’t been seen for ages, probably off bedding someone. Did you think your precious father would come and save his little darling? How sweet. How charming. Have you had enough?”

Nicole shook her head, the light fading, her head lolling to one side. Swan released his hold on her. “I’m rather disappointed. I thought it would be more fun playing with you. Anyone else want to have a go at taking the cup, or shall we cut to the chase and I kill you all now?”

Waverly raised her hand. “I’d like to have a go, if you don’t mind.”

“Waverly, are you out of your fucking mind,” Wynonna whispered, grabbing her arm. “You saw what he did to N, don’t you dare go near that cup.”

“Oh, we have a new contestant. Step up, step up, don’t be shy,” Swan said, clapping his hands together. “This should be fun.”

Wynonna held onto her sister. “You’re not going. I’m going.”

“Wyn, I have to do this. Please, let me go. Please, it’s for the best.”

Waverly smiled at her sister, placing her hand over her sister’s, removing it, stepping forward. Swan waved his gloved hand in the air. “Wait, wait, I don’t want your demigod to miss this. Wakey, wakey.”

Waverly heard a gasping sound, then coughing, then deep breaths. A hand appeared over the side of the altar, then another, Nicole pulling herself up, shaking her head. “That wasn’t fair, I wasn’t ready,” she croaked. “Do it again.”

Swan was about to, more than peeved with Nicole’s flippant attitude towards him, deciding not to be baited. “Look demigod, your little friend has volunteered to do the job for you. Come here mortal, come meet your fate.”

Nicole raised her gaze, struggling to get the words out. “Wave, no, stay back. It’s okay. This is for me to do.”

“He’s killing you.”

“He’s playing with me. Waves…”

“See, your little mortal friend is braver than you demigod. She will be the blood sacrifice this cup requires. Virgin blood to feed those who need to see my glory.”

“Hold on,” Waverly replied. “No one mentioned blood giving. Can I take the cup without giving my blood?”

“Enough,” Swan roared. “Is everyone trying to rile me? Come here mortal, or I’ll cut you in half as I did the warden.”

“So, it was you,” Holliday said. “I guess it was obvious, but nice that you’ve confessed.”

“As if it matters,” Swan replied. “As if it really fucking matters now. Look around you. Do you honestly think any of you are going to make it out of this room alive?”

Waverly raised her hand, Nicole sniggering. “No, but can I also make the point that I’m not a virgin.”

Nicole gasped in mock surprise. “Waverly Earp, you kept that quiet.”

“No, no, no,” Swan interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Not, virgin blood. Blood that hasn’t been tainted by dark magic. Fuck me, I end up with the idiots. Do you think the warden was a virgin? Hey, hey. Answer me that. Do you? His blood got the cup here in the first place. The demons thanked me, gave me more power. Enough to fight all these demigods.”

“Thanks again,” Holliday said. “That explains his death. Ritual killing to supply blood for dark magic. Making a mental note.”

“Go ahead. Bet you didn’t figure out why I placed the top half in such a prominent position. My declaration of war. Half of the warden. A little childish, perhaps, but I wanted the world to see what I’m capable of.”

“Knew it. Thought you were showing off. And, presumably the G in his mouth was something to do with that gate portal you created to get the cup here.”

Swan nodded. “Again, so silly. The warden ate the letter G. I amuse myself sometimes.”

“Tell you who is being funny,” Holliday replied. “Your tailor. You need to have a word because that colour doesn’t suit you.”

Nicole sniggered again, Swan raising his hands about to strike. “What? It was funny. Your suit doesn’t suit you. I mean, you’ve got to admit, that was a little funny.”

Swan’s face went purple. “That’s it. You’re all dead. I’m no longer amused. Prepare to meet your maker.”

Swan launched another wave at Nicole, sending her hurtling towards the back wall once more, her face contorting in agony, trying to break free, trying to breathe. Waverly rushed forward grabbing the cup, holding it in the air. “Swan, enough. Let her go. I forfeit my life for hers, you hear. My life for my friends' lives.”

“Good, good,” Swan replied, releasing Nicole, letting her fall once more. “You offered willingly. So, so much better. The fallen will enjoy your blood enormously. Perhaps, this was meant to be. How delicious.”

Swan approached Waverly, taking the cup from her, smiling, placing it back on the altar. He fumbled around in his pocket. “I don’t fucking believe it. Where’s it gone? No matter, I’ll use one of yours demigod,” Swan said, taking one of Nicole’s knives, Nicole unable to stop him, still gasping for air.

He took hold of Waverly’s left hand, moving it so it now hovered over the cup, holding the knife a little way above. “My gods, hear me, drink, feast, be merry, for today is your day of glory. And, mine.”

There was a knock on the door, a head appearing, a tall, extremely good-looking man with distinctive red hair entering, his eyes searching for someone. “I'm terribly sorry,” he said, his frightfully posh British accent ringing out. “I’m looking for someone. My mistake, wrong room.”

Nicole’s hand appeared on the altar once more, followed by the other, her head popping up, managing to pull herself up, waving. 

“There you are,” the man replied. “What were you doing down there?”

“Oh, a spot of cleaning. There’s quite a lot of dust under this altar.”

“Is there? You would have thought they’d have given this place a thorough clean before inviting demons in.”

“I know. You’re telling me,” Nicole replied. “I was going to offer, but things to do, people to kill.”

Swan was apoplectic with rage, slamming Nicole’s knife down on the altar. “Is this some fucking joke? Seriously, is this all one big joke?”

Waverly looked up, her eyes having remained on the blade the whole time, bracing herself for the sharp sting of metal against her skin. She stared at the man by the door, her mind trying to work out where she might have seen him before, his face vaguely familiar, his clothing different. “Oh my God, it’s you. The cleaner from the cathedral.”

The man nodded, smiling at Waverly. “What’s the world coming to, hey?” he said, in the familiar dialect Waverly recognised immediately from the first time they spoke. “A pleasure to meet you at last my dear.”

Nicole glared at the man. “You were spying on me. I knew it. My own father not trusting me enough with the task.”

“I merely wanted to see how you were getting on. I can go if you like. If you’ve got this covered.”

“Nope, stay. You can help me clean under this altar. Oh, and perhaps royally screw this bastard who thinks he can open the cursed cup.”

“Hold on, hold on, the cleaner is your father.” Waverly said. “I thought he was Eros.”

“Oh, but I am,” the cleaner replied, bowing. “And, you my dear are most beautiful.”

“She’s spoken for father. She’s mine.”

“I most certainly am not yours,” Waverly snapped. “I’m my own person. And, yes I’m spoken for.”

“A pity,” Eros replied. “If you change your mind.”


	26. Zenzero Palazzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Journey's end, journey's beginning...
> 
> .

Swan grabbed Waverly’s wrist, attempting to slit it, Eros simply waving his right hand, the blade becoming red hot against Swan’s skin. He let out a cry, dropping it, backing away. “I will not be defeated,” he yelled. “I’ve waited too long. No one, not even you Eros will stop me.”

“Oh, I have no intention of stopping you. In fact, I would like to help. You seem very keen to meet the demons in this cup. How about I let you visit them.”

Eros waved his hand once more, a wailing sound filling the room, the cries of those trapped calling out for release. With a final flourish of his hand Swan was swept up into the air and sucked head first into the cup, his screams the last to be heard as it closed behind him.

With Swan captured in the cup, the others were released, Wynonna rushing to Waverly, thumping her on the arm, grabbing her from Nicole, hugging her for dear life. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again.”

“I won’t. I’m sorry.”

Nicole heard a groan beside her, turning to see Auntie trying to stand, holding her left wrist. “He was too strong for me.”

“Auntie, how are you?” Eros asked. “Come, let me see your wrist.”

Eros took the damaged limb in his hands, a loud clicking sound was heard as the bone snapped back into place, Auntie bowing. “Thank you Eros, that certainly helps.”

“A pleasure. So, daughter of mine, is this the chosen one?”

Nicole nodded. “She is, if she’ll have me. Waverly Earp, my angel, my protector, would you consider accompanying me for oh, say a few years. See the world, take in the odd movie.”

Waverly looked over at her sister, returning her gaze to Nicole, taking her hand. “I could. As long as you promise to keep our place tidy. I’ve seen the narrowboat. And, you have the cheek to complain about dust under this altar.”

“Fine. I promise to watch you clean our place.” A dig to the ribs told her she might have to watch her teasing from now on. “Okay, okay. I promise to adore you and clean up occasionally.”

Eros clapped. “Perfect. Oh my, I love this feeling. Waverly Earp I have a question for you.”

Waverly let go of Nicole’s hand, approaching Eros. “I can give you a gift today, but it must be your decision whether to accept it, as it carries both loss and gain.”

Waverly furrowed her brow. “Thank you. I…what is it?”

“On this day you become a demi-angel. It would mean taking the longer path, seeing loved ones grow old, but it would also mean you get to put up with this scoundrel of a daughter of mine.”

Waverly turned to look at her sister, tears in her eyes, Wynonna nodding. “Baby girl, if you’re happy to be with N, then take this gift.”

Waverly turned to look at Nicole. “I do. I really do.”

It was Nicole’s turn to cry.

The door burst open, the Pope rushing in followed by his guards. “I’m so dreadfully sorry,” he said. “I had no idea this was happening. Eros, please forgive me.”

“Francis, just the man. I have a favour to ask. Would you mind performing a small ceremony for me?”

The Pope nodded, bowing. “Anything. For you, anything.”

Eros turned to Nicole and Waverly. “I mean, if you kids want to you could get a blessing from this guy in the big church upstairs.”

“Up to you,” Nicole said, looking at Waverly. “Personally, I wanted a beach in Tahiti, but we can do this too I guess.”

Xavier coughed. “I won’t be able to join you.”

“Nonsense,” Eros said. “I’ll make an exception for you today.”

“Nan!” Nicole exclaimed. “We need Nan. And, Robin. Did you want to invite your parents too? It’s kind of important.”

“Right, so we magically bring them to Rome, tell them we’re being blessed by the Pope with Eros present. Let’s just park that for a moment, ease them in gently to this whole supernatural life shall we.”

“If that’s what you want. Wait till they see your wings.”

“Really, do I get wings?” Waverly asked, Nicole sniggering. “Seriously, N fuck off. Oh no, forgive me, in front of everyone you made me swear.”

“I’m going to enjoy being with you Waverly Earp.”

Jeremy offered to fetch Nan and Robin. As the remaining members of the group made their way back along the corridor, cup and book now in Jeremy's possession they were met in the lobby by Swan’s guests. Some gasped when they saw the Pope, others kneeling. Waverly recognised several famous faces, gasping herself when she spotted an elderly Elvis towards the back. 

Eros told his party to go on ahead, Waverly wondering what he had in store for those who sought to ride on Swan’s coattails. When he caught them up he was holding a fat rabbit with wispy yellow fur in his arms, stroking it. “Say hello to Donald. I’m keeping him as a pet.”

Waverly looked at Nicole “That’s not…”

“Can’t be,” Nicole replied, winking. “Who’s ever seen a rabbit play golf?”

Blessing over, they made their way out into St. Peter’s Square, the light fading on another normal day for everyone else. Jeremy had deposited the cup and book in the Vatican vaults, Xavier still uncomfortable at being near a large church. Nicole flagged down a taxi, giving the driver an address, Auntie, Nan, Ros, Xavier and Holliday going on ahead. Taking a second taxi to Nicole’s home, Waverly gazed out the window, holding Nicole’s hand and Wynonna’s. 

Lights twinkled as they crossed the Tiber river, a magical scene, lovers promenading along cobbled streets, shops selling snacks and souvenirs. “I’d like to live here,” Waverly said, almost to herself, squeezing Nicole’s hand.

“You can, my love. I go where you go.”

Wynonna stuck two fingers into her mouth. “If you two are going to be loved up, I’m heading home.”

Nicole winked, pulling Waverly towards her, locking their lips, Eros covering the eyes of his rabbit. “That’s it,” Wynonna shouted. “Stop the cab, I’m outta here.”

Nicole let go of Waverly, who looked decidedly more relaxed after their embrace. “Dad can give you a lift back to St. Albans, although I was hoping you’d stay tonight as our guest.”

“One night. Need to be back to promote my film tomorrow.”

“Allow me to offer my chariot," Eros said. "Need to sort out a few things at the cathedral tomorrow.”

Nicole rolled her eyes. “You’ll need to watch my father.”

Wynonna winked at Nicole. “Your dad’s got a chariot.”

The taxi turned into via Giulia, stopping outside a grand building, Nicole speaking to the driver in fluent Italian, handing over her credit card. Waverly tutted. “You do carry money afterall.”

Nicole looked at her. “Yep, that and knives are a girl’s best friend.”

Exiting the taxi, they stood before Palazzo Zenzero (Ginger Palace), Nicole taking Waverly’s hand leading the way. The others were already inside, waiting in a downstairs room for their arrival. Waverly studied the building as they entered, very old, not much furniture, in fact no furniture at all, slightly disappointed this was where Nicole lived. Nicole sensed her disappointment. “This isn’t my home. It’s dad’s. Thought it best we come here tonight, rather than travel to mine. We’ll go tomorrow.”

“It’s a little empty. Where will we sleep?”

“Oops, never thought it through. Dad, where will we be sleeping?”

Eros took his eyes off his rabbit for a moment. “Sorry, yes, I’ll have my angels prepare the rooms for you. Now, little fellow where shall we put you?”

Eros waved his hand, the place filling with furniture, a fire burning in the hearth. “I don’t like to keep the place furnished while I’m away. Attracts the wrong sort if they know it’s unoccupied.” Another wave of his hand, dozens of servants appeared scurrying away to do their master’s bidding.”

Nicole led the way up two flights of stairs, opening a door onto the most magnificent bedroom Waverly had ever seen, the sight taking her breath away. “And, there’s me thinking I’d be bunking up on a narrowboat with you.”

“You still can. We can stay here for as long as we like, or my place. Or, wherever you fancy. World’s yours. I get the left side,” Nicole said, pulling Waverly inside, closing the door. “Welcome to my world.”

They feasted like gods that evening, laughter abounding, Eros teasing his daughter for having had to call on him. “I merely wanted you to see how well I was doing,” Nicole pouted. “I had it all under control.”

“Did you, my dear,” Eros replied, winking at Waverly. “I’m sure you could have handled it without my help.” 

“Absolutely. I was wearing him down with my sharp wit. Wasn’t I Waverly?”

“Of course you were,” Waverly replied, winking back at Eros.

As they lay in bed, the couple began their new life together, Waverly more content than she had ever been. “I thought you said you didn’t speak to your father. He’s lovely, a little flirty, not surprising considering who he is.”

Nicole gazed into Waverly’s eyes. “I thought at the time he was being cruel, not offering what he offered you today. I begged him, but he said the time would come when I would understand.”

“You asked your father to extend the life of your first love. Why didn’t he?”

“He said someone else holds the key to my heart. He knew what lay in my future. He knew one day it would be you who would unlock my heart and enter. He also couldn’t warn me of the suffering I would endure for you. But, it was necessary, to forge a love for you so deep no one else could ever take your place.”

Waverly brushed away a tear from her own eye. “Nan said that. In my tea leaves. I hold the key. I didn’t know until now what that meant.” 

“Waverly Earp, you are my soulmate,” Nicole said, pulling her into an embrace. “We were meant to be together. My father knew that, sought not to interfere, allowing us to find each other. Okay, maybe spying on us, as a creepy cleaner. So not happy about that.”

Waverly pulled away. “Will you tell me one day what happened to Willa.”

Nicole closed her eyes, not wanting to meet Waverly’s gaze. “I didn’t want to give you false hope, but I believe she is still alive. I heard those who imprisoned me talk of the child they’d captured, that she would make a fine gift for their master.”

“Where is she? N, could we find her?”

Nicole opened her eyes. “I will ask my father if that could be our next mission, together. He was insistent I protect the cathedral, obviously. With the cup now removed I no longer have to worry about keeping guard on that place. We are free to do as we please.”

“Please, please ask him. If there’s the remotest chance she’s alive.”

“I will do my best, but do not get your hopes up.”

“I won’t. I promise. But, she could still be alive. Should I go tell Wyn?”

Nicole rolled her eyes. “I think she’s with Holliday, they seem to have hit it off this evening.”

“They did look rather cosy together. He’ll be good for her, if he can tame her wild side.”

“As I need to tame you, Waverly Earp.”

“You’ll do no such thing. I’m not one of your pets, I’m not some little fish you can put in a…” she said, seeing the grin on Nicole’s face. “Seriously, fuck off. If this is what it’s going to be like, I’ll ask the Pope to undo us.”

“Untie us,” Nicole corrected. “And, now that thought’s in my head.”

“What? What thought?” Waverly asked, reading Nicole’s mind. “Oh no you don’t, although…”

Nicole’s eyes glowed amber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ginger Palace is inspired by a Renaissance building on the banks of the River Tiber, currently up for sale. [Palazzo Sacchetti](https://www.italy-sothebysrealty.com/en/for-sale/residential/rome-building-1838.aspx)
> 
> in amore e luce...


End file.
